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CHILD  OF  THE  SEA 


Jl  Chronicle  of  T^orto  ^ico 


BY 

JANIE  PRICHARD  DUGGAN 

Authoi  of 

"A  Mexican  Ranch,"  "An  Ide  of  Eden." 

"  Little  Cuba  Libre."  tic. 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE   JUDSON    PRESS 

BOSTON  CHICAGO  ST.  LOUIS      NEW  YORK 

LOS  ANGELES      KANSAS  CITY      SEATTLE       TORONTO 


Q. 


iiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiimminimniiiiup] 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
GILBERT  N.  BRINK,  S»crbtar¥ 

Published  August,  1930 


F 

1  ^  75  LIBRARY 

P)  rx-  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA' 
L'  o  SANTA  BARBARA 


TO 

THE  MEMORY  OF 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 


IF  in  this  chronicle  of  Porto  Rico  more  space  is  given  by  the 
writer  to  her  experiences  in  the  remoter  parts  of  the  Island, 
it  is  partly  because  her  notes  touching  those  periods  of  more 
solitary  life  are  fuller  of  detail  than  are  those  written  in  the 
teeming  city  of  the  coastland  where  the  work  centered.  Then, 
as  the  beginnings  and  development  of  certain  by-products  of 
any  central  work  often  hold  a  peculiar  value  of  their  own,  so 
the  out-of-the-way  missions  of  the  Porto  Rican  mountains  are 
even  today  of  special  interest  to  the  serious  student. 

There  were  in  the  whole  Island  unusual  problems  to  be 
encountered  in  the  first  years  of  upheaval  of  certain  customs  and 
of  disturbance  of  public  opinion  which  attended  the  change  of 
government  from  the  Spanish  to  the  American — every-day 
problems,  involving  the  foreigner  as  well  as  the  native,  and 
touching  more  than  the  money  standard  and  party  nomenclature 
— even  the  very  thought  and  language  of  the  people.  And  the 
more  isolated  parts  were  slower  to  conform  to  these  changes 
than  were  the  coast  cities,  which  from  the  first  were  in  close 
contact  with  the  Army  of  Occupation,  and  later  on  with  the 
hurried  influx  of  Americans  bent  upon  all  manner  of  enterprise. 
Therefore,  selections  from  the  letters  and  journals  written  dur- 
ing the  twelve  years  of  the  writer's  association  with  the  work 
of  the  mission  (1899-1911)  include  only  such  extracts  con- 
cerning life  in  the  cities  as  seem  necessary  to  the  continuity  of 
the  narrative. 

"  Them  rvomen  be  the  best  man  for  the  work"  said  the  old 
African  chief,  in  naive  appreciation  of  wonderful  Mary  Slessor 
of  the  Calabar  Coast  Mission*     Whether  the  dictum  of  the 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 

chief  is  to  be  accepted  as  a  universal  truth  or  as  simply  a  tribute 
to  that  eminent  woman,  does  not  matter.  A  germ  of  truth 
universal  is  contained  in  the  verdict:  there  is  a  part  which 
women  alone  can  take  in  the  mission  enterprise,  and  the  old 
savage  of  Africa  may  have  recognized  that  truth. 

A  different  kind  of  history  would  have  given  more  atten- 
tion to  statistics,  along  with  due  reference  to  the  work  of  those 
in  charge  of  the  initiation,  the  organization,  and  the  financing 
of  the  various  missions.  Such  details,  however,  will  be  found 
easy  of  access  in  the  records  of  all  the  Mission  Boards  con- 
cerned. 

Perhaps  no  apology  is  needed  for  the  pervasive  personal 
note,  inseparable  from  the  true  story  of  an  eye-witness. 

The  statistics  contained  in  the  Postscript  concerning  ad- 
vance in  the  Americanization  of  Borinquen,  are  taken  from 
the  review  of  the  twenty  years — 1899-1919 — incorporated  in 
the  Annual  Report  for  1 9 1 9  of  the  present  governor,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur Yager. 

Grateful  acknowledgement  is  due  to  Dr.  Charles  L.  White, 
of  the  Home  Mission  Society  of  New  York  City,  and  to  Miss 
Mary  O.  Lake,  of  Ponce,  P.  R.,  for  important  items  in  the 
resume  of  missionary  data  given  in  the  Postscript,  and  to  Rev. 
H.  P.  McCormick,  of  Baltimore,  Md.,  for  his  courteous  aid 
at  many  points  of  difficulty  in  the  editing  of  these  journals. 

Janie  Prichard  Duggan. 

Chicago,  III.,  January  26,  1920. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 


Into  the  Cocoanui  Crove Frontispiece 

Map  Shorving  Line  to  Porto  Rico 4 

Map  of  Ponce  to  1910 16 

Under  the  Palm  at  La  Pla^a  Chapel 20 

Trunk  of  Ceiba  Tree,  Where  N Was  Saved,  Ponce  20 

Dofia  Clara,  Dona  Lola,  and  Anita 40 

Dona  Clara's  House  in  Adjuntas 40 

Off  to  the  Giant's  Head 46 

Sleeping  Ciant  and  Adjuntas 46 

A  Waif  of  the  Hurricane 72 

Flowery  Plaza  in  Adjuntas 72 

Tree-ferns  on  the  MiUtary  Road 1 00 

The  Baptist  Church  at  Ponce 120 

Croup  of  Children  in  Coamo 126 

A  Lane  in  Barranquitas 1 40 

The  Sick  Mans  House  in  Barros 1 40 

Vidal — Faithful  Cook  ^"^  Sister  in  the  Faith,  Ponce 158 

"  Old  Speckle  "  at  the  Side  Door  of  the  Church,  Ponce...  158 

The  Road,  Arecibo  to  Ponce 1 68 

Interior  of  Corral  Viejo  Chapel  on  Day  of  Dedication 216 

Coamo  Springs  Hotel 2 1 6 

Outline  Map  of  Porto  Rico _..  236 


HYMN  OF  BORINQUEN 

La  tierra  de  Borinquen  donde  he  nacido  yo 

Es  un  jardin  florido  de  magico  primor; 

Un  cielo  siempre  nitido 

Se  sirve  de  dosel, 

Y  dan  arrullo  placido  las  olas  a  sus  pies. 

Cuando  a  sus  playas  vino  Colon, 

Exclamo  lleno  de  admiracion, 

**  !  Oh!     Oh!    esta  es  la  linda  tierra  que  busco  yo, 

Es  Borinquen,  la  hija,  la  hija  del  mar  y  el  sol, 

Del  mar  y  el  sol, 

Del  mar  y  el  sol!  " 

(Version  in  English  of  the  above,  by  Rev.  Hugh  P.  Mc- 
Cormick.) 

Fair  Island  of  Borinquen, 

Dear   Island  of  my   birth. 

Thou  art  the  flowery  Eden 

Of    all   this   beauteous   earth. 

Above  thee  shines  our  sunlit  sky, 

A  gorgeous  golden  canopy. 

While  murmuring  waves  about  thy   feet, 

Chant  placid  lullabies  and  sweet. 

When  these  thy  shores  he  first  descried. 
Much  marveling,   Columbus  cried: 

"Oh!    Oh!    Oh! 
Here,  here  I've   found  the  magic  strand 
The  loveliest  far  of  every  land! 
My  yearning  eyes  at  last  have  seen 
Borinquen,  radiant,  fearless  queen. 
Queen-child  of  sea  and  sun, 
Child-queen  of  sun  and  sea — • 

Qi  sun  and  sea." 


Child  of  the  Sea 


Beautiful  island!  then,  it  only  seemecl 

A  lovely  stranger — it  has  grown  a  friend. 

— Br^anl. 

Aboard  of  S.  S.  Caracas,  Red  D  Line, 
Atlantic  Ocean,  October  8,  1899. 

THE  third  day  out  from  New  York;  a  purple-and-silver 
sea,  and  a  strong  south  wind  blowing  in  our  faces  as  we 
steam  against  it.  The  ship  rolls  lazily  from  side  to  side 
as  she  pushes  her  nose  through  the  gleaming  water.  As  I 
write,  the  sailors  are  rolling  up  the  canvas  which  all  the  hot 
afternoon  has  shaded  the  starboard  deck  from  the  sun  glare, 
and  we  have  before  our  eyes  a  glorious  pageant  of  gilded 
sunset  clouds. 

The  afternoon  of  leaving  port,  October  6,  was  a  melancholy 
time  of  fog,  chilling  drizzle,  tumultuous  seas,  and  seasickness 
for  everybody.  It  was  blustering  outside  on  the  streaming 
deck,  all  stuffy  inside,  and  nobody  went  down  to  dinner.  Even 
the  burly  old  captain  confessed  to  there  being  "  a  nasty  sea 
on."  In  the  early  evening  there  was  just  one  glimpse  of  the 
new  moon  through  a  rifted  cloud  and  then — blackness  of 
lonely  darkness.  .  . 

The  last  hurried  fortnight  ashore  seems  like  a  dream — a 
very  nice  one — as  I  sit  in  my  deck-chair  at  this  quiet  hour. 
Every  day  was  full,  both  in  Newton  with  my  cousins,  and  in 
Boston  with  the  women  who  cherish  such  high  hopes  of  their 
new  enterprise  in  Porto  Rico.     The  glittering  new  subway  of 

[)] 


[2] Child    of    the    Sea 

Boston  impressed  me  profoundly,  as  the  train  bore  me  with 
miraculous  swiftness  undergroimd  to  the  foot  of  stairs  ushering 
our  jam  of  people  above  ground,  conducting  me  almost  to  the 
doors  of  Tremont  Temple  and  the  Mission  offices. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  faces  about  the  wide  polished 
table  in  the  Board  room.  The  President  ^  of  the  Board  and 
the  Corresponding  Secretary  ^  were  personally,  as  well  as  offi- 
cially, most  cordial,  and  I  came  away  with  a  distinct  heart- 
warming  

Captain  Woodrick  stopped  at  my  chair,  a  while  ago,  to 
chaff  and  chat.  "  Where  are  we  now?  "  I  asked  him. 
**  That  is  exactly  what  I  want  to  know,"  he  answered.  Poor 
captains  of  ships!  "We  are  about  midway  of  the  Florida 
coast,"  I  ventured,  for  there  is  no  chart  shovvTi  of  the  ship's 
progress,  only  a  memorandum  of  the  daily  runs.  "  Yes,  about 
the  latitude  of  Cape  Florida,"  he  returned,  applauding  my 
guess. 

He  is  a  kindly,  queer  old  gentleman,  fond  of  his  pipe  and 
of  a  huge  chair  in  which  he  sits  at  his  cabin-door  on  our 
deck — sometimes  in  his  shirt-sleeves  at  the  day's  end.  To- 
day, he  rushed  out  upon  a  group  of  little  folks  playing  un- 
der his  cabin  window  with  "Here!  stop  that  screechin'! 
I'm  goin'  to  bed.  Go  aft!  "  But  I  can  see  him  now,  tell- 
ing a  story  to  a  small  passenger  at  his  knee  and  chuckling 
with  the  youngster. 

Atlantic  Ocean, 
October  10,  1899. 

It  is  interesting  and  curious  to  hear  the  various  opinions  my 
shipmates  advance  as  to  Porto  Rico,  some  distinctly  pro,  others 
altogether  con.     Mrs.  K ,  who  has  lived  five  years  al- 

*  Mrs.  George  B.  Coleman. 
'Mrs.  A.  E.  Reynolds. 


Child    of    the    Sea [£ 

ready  in  San  Juan,  the  capital,  says  that  very  soon  I  shall 
remembering  be  what  she,  "  de  German  ladee,"  tells  of  the 
horrid  fleas  and  changes  and  other  animales  to  be  encountered 
even  in  every-day  life,  in  one's  own  nice,  clean  house — that 
one  may  not  lay  a  crumb  of  sweets  dovm  for  an  instant  with- 
out a  swarm  of  "  beasts  "  attacking  it!  As  if  one  could  ex- 
pect the  charms  of  a  tropic  isle  without  knowing  that  there 
must  be  some  rifts  in  its  perfections !  As  the  Cuban  passenger. 
Doctor  Arango,  says,  we  must  wait  to  see  and  judge  for  our- 
selves. He  and  his  sweet  wife  tell  me  of  a  cousin  of  theirs 
married  to  a  Spanish  planter  away  up  in  the  mountains  about 
Ponce.     Shall  I  ever  meet  them? 

Atlantic  Ocean, 

October  11.  1899,  9.30  A.  M. 

Porto  Rico  lies  like  a  pale  low-hung  blue  cloud  along  the 
horizon  straight  ahead  in  the  south.  We  have  left  the 
patches  of  orange-colored  seaweed  behind,  and  foamless  wave- 
lets of  deep  ultramarine  blue  sparkle  and  dance  about  the  ship. 
I  have  had  other  ocean  voyages,  but  this  has  been  the  most 
notable  of  all,  in  the  balminess  of  the  winds,  after  the  first, 
and  the  radiant  tints  of  the  water 

We  shall  land  today  at  noon. 

At  Rio  Piedras,  P.  R.,  from 
October  12  to  November  3,  1899. 

Creeping  in  at  last  toward  the  green  water  of  our  anchorage 
in  San  Juan  harbor  was  for  our  eyes  like  turning  the  leaves 
of  a  picture-book  in  colors ;  the  walls  of  the  old  yellow  fortress. 
El  Morro,  stood  out  sharply  from  the  green  shores,  the  white 
surf  broke  over  the  sunny  brown  rocks  below,  a  few  scraggy 
cocoanut  palms  lifted  their  fronds  against  the  hot  blue  sky 


14] Child   of    the   Sea 

alongshore,  and  the  pilot's  little  sailboat  came  teetering  out  to 
meet  us  as  the  ship  barely  moved  at  last.  A  great  gray-and- 
white  bird  went  flapping  close  by  my  head  at  the  deck  rail, 
and  the  rope  ladder  was  thrown  over  the  ship's  side  for  the 
pilot.  I  "  snapped  "  the  Island,  and  then  had  to  rush  down  to 
our  belated  breakfast  and  so  lost  the  further  coming  in  to  port. 
The  negro  pilot  brought  us  to  our  anchorage  in  the  picturesque 
harbor  in  the  heat  of  high  noon.  So  we  arrived,  safe  and 
very  well,  over  the  lonesome  sea.  In  all  the  thirteen  hundred 
and  eighty  miles  from  New  York,  we  saw  but  three  distant 
sails,  and  the  smoke  of  one  steamship  miles  and  miles  away. 

As  I  looked  down  from  the  deck  upon  the  rowboats  crowd- 
ing and  slopping  about  the  foot  of  our  lowered  gangway  steps, 
the  dusky  oarsmen  clamoring  for  passengers  for  shore,  a  pleas- 
ant voice  greeted  me  in  English,  and  I  turned  to  find  a  lands- 
man at  my  side,  clothed  in  cool,  white  duck  from  helmet  to 
shoes.  He  was  not  the  expected  Mr.  McCormick,  but  intro- 
duced himself  as  Mr.  Z.  C.  Collms,  Y.  M.  C.  A.  Secretary 
of  the  Army  and  Navy,  U.  S.  A.  He  said  that  there  was 
illness  in  the  family  of  our  missionary,  and  that  he  had  been 
deputed  by  him  to  meet  me  in  his  stead. 

On  landing  I  went  at  once  to  a  boarding-house,  for  the 
afternoon  and  night,  as  the  intense  heat  set  my  head  to  reeling, 
while  the  cobblestones  of  the  noisy  streets  heaved  under  my 
feet!  But  Miss  Ida  Hayes  soon  appeared  with  a  welcome 
from  Rio  Piedras,  where  she  lives  in  the  home  of  the  McCor- 
mick family.  They  have  all  been  ill  with  dengue  (breakbone 
fever)  and  she  herself  was  barely  able  to  be  out  even  in  the 
cool  of  the  day,  as  I  could  very  well  see.  The  next  day,  Mr. 
McCormick  brought  me  here  to  his  cottage  home.  How  much 
trouble  a  *'  beginning-missionary  "  seems  to  herself  to  be  giving 
everybody!  But  my  welcome  could  not  have  been  more 
hearty. 


INE-TO 


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*Pt  FEAR 
ROMAN 


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.BERMUDAS  ISLANDS 


A\rLANTIC 
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HjIURKS  15 
BIHAOIIA      ,460   M,,P, 


CARIBBEAN   SEA 


OlAO'LOUPEi 

DOMINICA  iy; 

M»R71NigiJE''| 

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SIVl»C[NT  rf>''        . 

RINIDAO 


Child   of   the   Sea l^ 

Rio  Pedras  is  a  town  of  two  thousand  inhabitants,  about 
seven  miles  inland  from  San  Juan,  the  capital  and  chief  port 
of  entrance.  We  traveled  by  a  rattling,  little  dummy  train 
over  a  narrow-gauge  railway  which  ends  with  the  seven  miles. 
I  was  enchanted  with  the  wayside  cottages  of  the  suburbs, 
their  dooryards  and  gardens  hung  with  brilliant  flowering 
vines  and  shaded  by  strange,  heavy-foliaged  trees,  and  with 
the  myriads  of  palms,  standing  singly,  in  groups,  in  stately 
avenue  rows. 

Rev.  H.  P.  McCormick  is  the  representative,  on  the  north 
side  of  the  Island,  of  our  Home  Mission  Board,  of  New  York, 
with  Miss  Hayes  as  associate  in  the  work.  He  was  the  first 
arrival  of  *'  Ours  "  in  the  Island,  last  February,  initiating 
Protestant  endeavor,  in  Spanish,  for  the  Islanders.  He  was 
very  quickly  followed  by  Rev.  A.  B.  Rudd,  of  the  same 
Society,  who  now  works  on  the  south  side. 

The  McCormick  home  is  a  small  frame  cottage  exactly 
like  thousands  of  others  in  the  Island,  I  am  told.  A  narrow 
piazza,  entered  at  one  end  by  steps  from  the  street,  reaches 
quite  across  the  front.  The  sitting-room  opens  directly  from 
the  piazza.  All  doors  and  windows  have  slatted  shutters,  and 
there  are  no  glazed  sashes  in  the  windows  and  no  hangings  of 
any  kind  to  keep  out  the  breezes.  There  is  a  little  garden- 
court  beyond  the  row  of  sleeping-rooms,  and  long,  ragged 
leaves  of  bananas  and  of  palms  droop  over  the  high  wall  from 
some  neighbor's  garden  behind.  Three-year-old  Charlie,  a  lit- 
tle flower-lover,  brought  me  in  the  other  day  a  curled-up, 
scented  leaf  of  the  bay,  from  which  bay  rum  is  made,  saying 
in  his  shy,  pretty  way,  "  Here's  a  f'ower  for  you.  Auntie  Dug- 
gan,  what's  got  'logne  on  it! 

The  Porto  Rican  church,  organized  in  this  little  town,  by 
Mr.  McCormick,  three  months  ago,  on  July  9,  has  the  honor 
of  being  the  first  Protestant  Church  in  the  Island  for  Spanish- 


[61 Child    of    the    Sea 

speaking  people,  and  already  numbers  about  fifty  members. 
The  church-house  is  a  long,  one-story,  frame  cottage,  with 
many  doors  and  windows  opening  upon  a  piazza  running  its 
full  length ;  it  is  painted  a  cool  green  and  white,  and  stands  on 
a  large  lot  with  cocoanut  palms,  the  property  of  the  mission. 
Several  other  stations  in  the  country  roundabout  are  maintained 
from  this  center.  No  church  has  been  organized  in  San  Juan 
yet,  but  a  Sunday  School  and  regular  preaching  services  are 
held  there.     So  much  for  statistics! 

These  people  in  the  mission  cottage  are  simply  consumed 
with  interest  in  "  the  Work."  They  eat  it,  drink  it,  talk  it, 
and  dream  it,  as  it  were,  day  and  night.  Already  it  is  getting 
hold  of  me — this  all-absorbing  side  of  Island  life  for  us,  who 
are  ourselves  **  foreigners  "  to  the  natives. 

One  day,  with  many  others,  I  went  to  a  baptismal  service  in 
a  fine  plantation  grove  near  by.  It  had  rained  early  in  the 
day — it  rains  in  lovely,  misting  showers  at  any  hour,  every  day, 
at  this  season — and  trees,  vines,  and  knee-high  grasses  were 
drenched  with  wet.  The  sun  blazed  hotly  overhead  and  the 
earth  steamed,  as  the  little  band  of  "  members  "  stood  round 
about  the  baptismal  pool  set  deep  in  a  ferny  hollow,  and  sang 
with  all  the  mighty  joy  of  their  hearts.  Two  white  tents 
served  the  baptized  for  the  changing  of  raiment,  and  everybody 
was  happy! 

But,  an  hour  afterward — ^we  had  walked  quietly  home  by 
the  highway  which  is  adorned,  but  not  shaded,  by  tall  royal 
palms — I  was  attacked  by  the  breakbone  aching.  The  rest  of 
the  family  was  hardly  upon  its  feet,  and  here  was  I  groaning 
with  pain  upon  my  little  iron  bedstead!  Happily  for  me,  ex- 
perience had  taught  the  others  what  might  help  to  alleviate  such 
suffering.  All  were  angels  of  kindness  to  me  and,  having  just 
passed  by  the  same  road  of  pain,  they  understood  the  extreme 
depression,  as  well  as  the  racking  agony,  caused  by  the  dengue. 


Child    of    the    Sea VU 

I  had  meant  to  leave  for  Ponce,  my  final  destination,  on 
October  25,  but  could  not  lift  my  head  from  the  pillow  on  that 
day.     Am  better  as  I  write. 

Ponce,  P.  R.. 
November   18,    1899. 

It  was  pouring  rain  on  the  evening  of  the  3rd  when  some 
of  the  kind  Rio  Piedras  people  brought  me  to  the  waterfront 
in  San  Juan,  where  the  "  Longfellow,"  a  wee  coastwise 
steamer,  lay  rocking  gently  in  utter  darkness,  except  for  a  faint 
light  here  and  there  from  lanterns.  It  was  dreary  indeed  in 
the  slop  and  chill  of  the  little  deck,  and  my  cubby-hole  of  a 
stateroom  below  was  ventilated  only  by  a  port-hole  scarcely 
larger  than  a  saucer.  But  I  did  not  smother,  as  I  thought  I 
surely  must,  before  the  boat  slipped  away  at  2  a.  m.  over  the 
gurgling  black  water,  and  in  spite  of  the  "  misery  "  in  my 
bones  and  the  heartache  at  setting  out  to  sea  with  no  com- 
panion more  friendly  than  the  mosquitoes  which  attended  me  in 
swarms,  I  went  to  sleep  at  last. 

On  deck  early  the  next  morning,  I  found  all  the  world  alight 
and  asparkle,  while  the  lovely  mountainous  shores  of  the  west- 
ern coast  of  the  Island  seemed  almost  within  reach  of  my  fingers, 
as  we  slowly  glided  past.  We  had  stopped  in  the  dawning 
at  Arecibo,  still  on  the  north  coast,  to  unload  and  load  freight ; 
then  turning  the  corner  of  the  Island  southward,  we  came  after 
hours  of  slow  steaming  to  Aguadilla  and  to  Mayagiiez.  Such 
picturesque  little  towns  they  are,  crowded  to  the  water's  edge 
by  the  mountains  behind  them,  with  palm-fringed  shore  drives, 
thatched  huts,  warmly  tinted  houses,  quiet  harbors. 

The  sun  set  gloriously  as  we  lay  anchored  for  an  hour  or 
two  off  Mayagiiez,  and  I  saw  the  electric  lights  spring  into  life 
around  the  harbor's  edge,  with  the  sounding  of  the  sunset  gun 
ashore. 

B 


[8] Child    of    the    Sea 

At  6  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Sunday,  November  5,  I 
waked  to  find  the  Httle  "  Longfellow  "  anchored  off  the  shores 
of  La  Playa,  Ponce's  seaport  on  the  southern  coast.  The  sun 
rose  behind  two  stranded  ships,  and  there  was  still  another 
farther  around  in  the  roadstead,  relics  of  the  terrible  hurricane 
of  last  August.  A  bit  of  quiet,  green  harbor  water  showed 
close  beneath  my  port-hole.  Rev.  A.  B.  Rudd  came  aboard 
the  steamer  for  me  at  breakfasttime,  and  very  soon  we  were 
rowed  ashore.  Then  in  a  hired  carriage  we  came  flying  along 
tw-o  miles  of  the  Military  Road  to  Ponce.  For  the  present,  I 
am  domiciled  in  the  missionary  home,  where  I  was  received 
by  Mrs.  Rudd  with  welcoming  kindness. 

A  notable  event  took  place  that  very  afternoon,  November 
5,  when  the  first  Porto  Rican  converts  of  the  mission  in  the 
south  were  baptized  in  the  river.  Though  still  weak  and  giddy 
from  the  fever,  I  was  piloted  by  little  Courtney  through  the 
streets  to  our  mission  hall,  where  the  others  had  gathered  for  a 
culto,  an  hour  before.  {Culto  is  the  accepted  name  for  a 
mission  service,  and,  since  the  hour  at  the  pool  in  the  wood,  at 
Rio  Pedras,  I  can  see  that  the  word  holds  all  its  original  mean- 
ing of  worship.) 

There  were  the  dear  sisters-to-be  and  the  brethren  waiting, 
with  their  respective  changes  of  clothing  in  neat  packets  in  their 
hands.  Mr.  R.  had  engaged  one  or  two  of  the  rickety,  little 
public  carriages  to  bear  us  to  a  point  on  the  river  a  mile  or  so 
away,  beyond  the  town's  edge.  So  we  were  off,  the  women 
in  the  carriages  with  us,  the  men  and  a  following  crowd  on 
foot  behind.  We  clattered  through  a  desolate  section  of  the 
city,  a  motley,  chattering,  and  ever-growing  procession,  over  a 
road  strewn  with  loose  rocks  washed  out  of  the  Portugues  river- 
bed, in  the  flood  of  last  August. 

Two  white  tents  stood  on  the  river-bank,  which  was  low  and 
flat  on  that  side,  but  rose  to  a  steep  cliff  directly  across  on  the 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

other  side.  Around  us  were  the  foothills;  beyond,  the  moun- 
tains, and  over  all  the  soft,  late  afternoon  light. 

At  first  there  was  a  disposition  to  mirth,  as  the  minister  led 
the  men  into  the  water,  for  a  fringe  of  bare-legged  boys 
topped  the  cliff  over  the  way,  ready  for  a  cheer  at  the  least 
slip  in  the  proceeding.  And  who  could  have  blamed  them? 
Never  before  in  their  lives  had  they  seen  the  useful  Portugues 
river  put  to  such  service!  But  all  subsided  into  a  wondering 
silence,  after  the  first  thrills,  for  the  missionary's  words  cap- 
tured the  attention  of  both  sides  of  the  river.  And  the  singing 
of  "  Happy  Day  "  in  Spanish  sounded  very  sweet  to  me.  As 
I  stood  at  the  women's  tent,  a  strange  woman  lifted  an  ab- 
sorbed face  to  mine,  with  a  sigh:  "  Ah!  I  like  iil  It  is 
Verj;  beautiful"  ^  she  whispered. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  it  would  affect  me  to  see  people 
really  "  hungering  and  thirsting  "  for  the  gospel.  Can  this  be 
that  hunger  and  thirst — this  crowding  eagerness  to  come  to  the 
mission  hall  for  the  enjoyment  everybody  seems  to  find  there? 
After  the  baptisms  on  Sunday,  we  held  culios  every  night,  to 
clinch  the  impression  made  then,  I  suppose,  and  the  little  red 
hall  on  Comercio  Street  had  to  be  enlarged  by  the  removal  of  a 
partition.  This  hall  was  once  the  Sala  de  la  Audiencia 
(court-room)  and  is  still  called  so.  Men,  women,  and  actu- 
ally children,  sit  quietly  through  the  longest  sermon,  listening 
with  rapt  attention.  White  and  black  they  sit,  men  on  one 
side,  women  on  the  other,  poring  over  the  black  books — Bibles 
— singing  from  the  little  red  ones,  their  faces  beaming  as  they 
try  to  sing  all  together. 

But,  most  of  all,  they  like  to  hear  the  reading  of  la  Palabra 

de  Dios,  as  they  call  it.     Some  say,  innocently,  that  they  did 

not  know  there  was  a  word  of  God,  and  how  then  could  they 

know  "  the  Truth  " !     Others  tell  us  that  what  they  hear  is  just 

~  Oh !  me  gusla  mucho  I    Es  mu})  Undo. 


[10] Child    of    the    Sea 

what  they  have  been  wanting  all  these  years.  Others,  still,  find 
in  it  an  echo  of  a  memory  of  the  oral  teaching  of  some  re- 
ligious forefather.  There  are  but  four  priests  in  Ponce,  and 
there  is  only  one  Roman  Catholic  church,  and  the  people  seem, 
here  as  all  over  the  Island,  to  be  as  sheep  without  a  shepherd. 
Even  I,  with  little  experience  of  conditions  here,  can  see  that 
missionaries  must  be  wary  in  receiving  for  baptism  some  of  those 
who  seek  it.  Though  there  is  none  of  the  fanaticism  of  Mexico 
to  dishearten,  this  really  does  not  make  the  problem  easier.  For 
some  do  not  seem  to  understand  that  rice  and  beans  and  cod- 
fish and  shoes  are  not  a  part  of  the  "  new  religion  "  the  ameri- 
canos  have  brought  from  the  far  North!  Hundreds  are  left 
destitute  since  the  terrible  hurricane  and  flood  of  last  August. 
If  the  missionary  had  been  anxious  to  quote  numbers  alone,  I 
do  not  doubt  that  we  might  have  by  now  a  church  of  a  hun- 
dred members,  instead  of  a  very  little-one-to-be  of  a  dozen 
or  so! 

My  bicycle  is  going  to  be  a  treasure.  Ponce  is  a  wide- 
spread city,  and  the  suburbs,  where  the  poorer  people  live  in 
their  curious  little  shacks,  stretch  to  the  foothills  and  even  run 
up  the  slopes.  Already  I  am  finding  the  homes  of  "  our 
people,"  and  everywhere  meet  with  a  warm  welcome.  And 
pretty,  dark-eyed,  Ver^  scantily  clothed  children  (the  only 
clothing  of  some  being  the  dust  of  earth  and  the  sunshine  of 
heaven)  hail  the  americana  from  the  four  points  of  the  com- 
pass. Always,  every  day,  there  are  more  openings  for  house- 
to-house  work  in  Ponce  than  can  be  well  followed  up. 

In  the  smallest  house  (not  to  be  a  doll-house)  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  painted  a  bright  blue,  lives  a  pleasant-faced  woman 
named  Juana  Rodriguez.  She  keeps  a  *'  dame-school  "  of 
the  old-time  sort,  and  is  now  having  the  wee  ones  learn  to  sing 
the  mission  hymns  by  heart.  Though  she  has  not  yet  received 
baptism  she  appears  every  Sunday  morning  at  Bible  School 


Child    of    the    Sea [TU 

with  a  string  of  small  boys  and  girls  in  her  wake,  washed  and 
combed  and  eager  for  picture-cards,  bless  'em! 

My  arrangement  for  boarding  with  the  missionary's  family, 
at  first,  seems  the  best  I  can  make,  although  I  had  other  plans 
which  may  be  carried  out  later.  It  is  certainly  very  good  of 
Mrs.  R.  to  take  me  in.  The  advent  of  Americans  in  the 
Island  is  still  too  new  cmd  sensational  a  matter  for  us  to  adopt 
any  but  very  conservative  ways  of  life,  and  an  American  lady 
could  not  very  well  live  alone  in  Ponce,  in  one  of  its  fascinat- 
ing, wee  cottages,  even  with  a  very  highly  respectable  servant 
woman  as  companion. 

I  am  delighted  with  the  climate,  although  there  is  perpetual 
summer  here,  the  mercury  registering  85°  to  88°  every  day, 
now  in  mid-November.  White  frocks  are  indispensable — 
more  than  I  brought  with  me,  alas! — yet  one  must  guard 
against  chilling  from  excessive  perspiration,  after  even  slight 
exercise,  combined  with  the  almost  unavoidable  exposure  to 
strong  breezes  and  sudden  draughts  in  the  shade. 

The  rainy  season  is  ending,  they  say,  and  there  is  a  balmi- 
ness  in  the  air  from  the  near-by  southern  Sea. 

If  we  could  forget  the  suffering  and  the  sorrow  of  the  people 
with  whom  we  deal  mostly,  we  would  seem  to  live  in  a  paradise 
of  guarding  green  mountains  and  lovely  valleys,  refreshed  by 
the  daily  "  trades  "  blowing  in  softly  from  the  flowing  Sea. 
But  we  do  not  wish  to  forget,  and  often  we  find  fortitude  and 
patience  among  our  people  in  unsuspected  places,  which  touch 
our  hearts  to  the  quick. 

I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  speak  the  language  of  the  Island. 
If  the  Mexican  years  had  given  me  no  more  than  this,  I  should 
be  grateful  to  Mexico! 


[12]  Child    of    the    Sea 


II 


And  I  will  kiss 

The  rugged  cheek  of  Earth,  with  thankful  tears 

For  every  throb  of  every  human  heart 

That  welcomes  me  to  share  the  general  law. 

And  bear  the  mutual  burden. 

— Day^ard  Taylor. 

Ponce.  P.  R., 
November  21.    1899. 

THE  Ponce  church  was  formally  organized  tonight  by 
Mr.  R..  with  fourteen  baptized  members.     A  novel  and 
solemn  service  for  those  eager-eyed,  earnest  souls,  both 
'*  organized  "  and  outsiders. 

On  my  wheel  I  have  been  going  into  all  parts  of  the  city. 
Among  the  multitude  of  huts  it  is  very  difficult  to  find  the 
homes  even  of  those  who  have  given  us  the  names  of  their 
streets,  as  the  houses  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town  have  no  num- 
bers, and  there  are  few  names  of  streets  posted.  Along  some 
streets,  there  are  rows  upon  rows  of  patched-up  shacks,  piteous 
reminders  of  the  recent  hurricane,  ranged  two  or  three  deep  be- 
hind the  more  sightly  cottages  directly  upon  the  street,  and  I 
wind  in  and  out  among  them,  even  losing  my  way  before  I  can 
find  my  family  of  Martinez  or  Perez  or  Gomez,  or — the  way 
out  again!     But  everybody  is  willing  to  help  the  americana. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  a  senora  named  Juana  Romero 
lives?  "  I  ask  a  smiling  woman  in  a  doorway. 

Juana  Romero  '?      Who  can  that  be?      Ricardo,  there! 
Do  you  know  a  seriora  named  Juana  Romero? 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

A  man  saunters  up,  carrying  a  naked  baby-boy  in  his  arms: 
"La  Scnora  Juana  Romero?     Quien  sake?" 

"But  she  told  me  she  Hved  behind  number  1 1 8  on  this 
street,  in  a  house  roofed  with  tin  of  oil-cans,  and  this  house 
looks  like  the  one  she  described.  She  said  she  lived  with  a 
seiiora  named  Rosa." 

"  I  am  Rosa,"  the  smiling  woman  says,  taking  the  baby 
from  the  man,  "  but  Juana  Romero " 

"  The  americana  means  our  Juanita,  perhaps,"  the  man  sug- 
gests to  the  woman. 

"Juanita!  but  of  course!  Come  in,  Senora.  Juanita  has 
gone  to  the  comer  to  fetch  water.  She'll  be  back  in  a  few 
moments.  To  think  that  you  meant  my  sister-in-law  Juanita, 
after  all !  " 

And  so  it  goes.  The  fact  that  an  americana  should  come 
nosing  around  among  their  houses  which  stand  as  thick  as  peas 
in  a  pod,  wanting  to  see  some  member  of  their  families,  seems 
to  stupify  some  and  excite  the  suspicion  of  others.  And  very 
naturally,  it  seems  to  me.  What  can  the  foreign  woman  want 
with  their  sisters-in-law,  and  their  little  daughters?  Ah!  but 
one  thing  indeed,  can  she  want ! 

Yet,  many  need  bread  and  milk,  or  a  doctor  and  medicine 
as  well  as  the  gospel.  The  state  of  things  now,  just  after  the 
hurricane,  is  appalling.  Those  who  work  among  the  poor  for 
their  relief  say  that  many  are  slowly  starving  to  death — not 
simply  as  a  direct  result  of  the  hurricane,  but  from  long  op- 
pression and  neglect  as  well.  However,  something  is  being 
done  to  help  them,  and  things  will  gradually  improve. 

But  there  are  many  happy  little  homes,  where  chubby  dark- 
eyed  babies  behave  beautifully  as  the  missionary  reads  to 
mama  from  the  little  black  book  she  carries.  And  sometimes 
papa  sits  in  the  doorway  and  listens,  or  asks  questions  about 
the  book. 


[14]  Child    of    the    Sea 


December  1.  1899. 

It  seems  almost  unbelievable,  after  my  experiences  in  fanati- 
cal Mexico,  that  people  should  come  hunting  along  the  street 
to  the  mission,  as  I  saw  them  tonight.  We  were  crowded  to 
the  limit  in  our  narrow  quarters  on  Comercio  Street.  After 
the  benediction  everybody  crowded  around  as  usual  to  shake 
hands  with  us — I  believe  they  think  this  an  important  part  of 
the  service — or  to  give  us  their  names,  and  the  names  of  their 
streets,  if  they  can.  Their  faces  beam  with  appreciation  of  a 
friendly  word.  My  little  name-book  is  filling  with  names  of 
women  who  ask  for  a  visit  and  for  reading.  Their  ignorance 
of  the  Bible  and  of  the  practises  of  evangelical  Christianity  is 
easily  understood,  but  it  is  so  fundamental  that,  even  though 
some  seem  to  be  understanding  the  new  life  and  to  be  happy  in 
it,  it  is  necessary  to  give  rudimentary  instruction  all  along,  in 
many  things.  The  old  "  dead  "  works,  the  superstitious  cus- 
toms of  the  religious  faith  they  have  known,  must  be  changed 
to  a  real  hope,  not  merely  for  the  dying  moment  but  for  daily 
living.  A  young  girl,  recently  baptized  and  now  "  a  mem- 
ber," lost  a  cousin  last  week,  by  death.  "  It  is  the  custom 
here  "  (an  unanswerable  phrase  used  constantly  in  explanation 
of  what  to  the  foreign  mind  seems  unusual)  when  one  is  in 
mourning  not  to  go  outside  of  the  house  for  at  least  nine  days 
after  the  death,  except  to  the  cemetery.  I  went  to  see  Antonia 
during  her  nine  days,  and  asked  her  how  she  occupied  her  time 
indoors  just  now,  when  not  ironing.  "  We  have  been  praying 
for  my  cousin's  soul,"  she  replied  calmly.  Now,  this  cousin 
was  not  a  "  believer,"  so  why  not  pray  for  her  soul?  It  might 
not  be  too  late! 

Mosquitoes  are  a  pest.  A  dozen  bloodthirsty  creatures  are 
at  this  moment  attacking  me,  and  my  ankles  in  low  shoes  are 


Child    of    the    Sea [15]^ 

atingle.  Now,  at  4  p.  m.,  the  mercury  registers  88°.  Is 
Christmas  near?      Maybe  so,  but  it  seems  midsummer. 

How  thirsty  one  is  in  this  humid  heat !  On  account  of  the 
ruin  in  the  mountains  of  banana  patches  and  fruit  trees,  all 
fruit  is  scarce  now.  Oranges  are  coming  in  slowly,  and  are 
sweet  and  juicy,  though  perfectly  green.  They  cost  less  than 
half  a  cent  apiece;  and  how  can  one  wait  for  the  ripe  ones  to 
become  available? 

Yesterday,  in  an  impromptu  gathering  of  several  women  in 
a  house  I  was  visiting,  we  talked  a  little  about  prayer  to  Mary. 
A  girl  asked  me  if  I  knew  what  were  the  words  the  preacher 
said  at  the  mission,  "  when  everybody  bows  the  head  and  closes 
the  eyes!  "  I  prayed  then  in  Spanish,  and  the  girl  had  her 
first  lesson  in  "  talking  with  God  "  in  one's  own  words. 

December  3,  1899. 

Today,  Sunday-School  was  larger  than  ever.  There  were 
thirty  or  thirty-five  women  in  my  class,  and  our  own  offering 
was  sixty  centavos.  Over  a  hundred  scholars  in  school,  and 
not  room  for  them.  Mrs.  R.'s  class  of  children  was  over- 
flowing. We  must  have  a  church  building  as  soon  as  possible. 
Mr.  R.  has  found  a  good  lot,  which  may  be  secured  for  the 
purpose. 

There  is  no  map  of  the  city  anywhere  to  be  found,  so  I 
have  drawn  one  of  the  streets  about  the  center.  It  is  of  course 
imperfect,  as  I  am  no  surveyor,  and  my  instruments  have  been 
my  eyes,  my  fingers,  memory  and  a  pencil.  It  has  been  inter- 
esting to  explore  the  streets,  their  crooks  and  crannies,  on  the 
bicycle,  and  then  to  come  home  to  jot  dov^Ti  the  crossings  and 
endings,  and  so  rny  little  map  of  the  Ponce  streets  and  plazas 
has  growTi.  One  street,  passing  the  lot  selected  for  a  church, 
runs  short  up  against  a  block  of  double  length,  and  ends  there 


[16] Child    of    the   Sea 

instead  of  passing  through  and  continuing  beyond.^     This  is 
Calle  Bertoli,  just  a  block  from  the  market  plaza. 

December  9,  1 899. 

Today  is  election  day,  here  in  Ponce,  and  the  two  political 
parties  of  the  Island,  Republican  and  Federal,  are  taking 
things  very  seriously  indeed.  The  Island  is  not  yet  to  have 
her  own  full  and  independent  government,  but  the  leaders  of 
the  two  parties  are  getting  municipal  affairs  into  shape  so  far 
as  they  may.  Some  excitement  had  been  expected,  but  all  is 
pacific,  so  far.  The  stores  are  closed  today  and  neither  ox- 
carts nor  carriages  pass  as  usual. 

December  16,  1889. 

At  last  they  are  numbering  the  houses  all  about,  naming  un- 
named streets  and  changing  the  names  of  others. 

This  a.  m.  I  rode  along  La  Playa  road  toward  the  Port, 
having  an  errand  with  the  quarantine  officer  and  marine 
surgeon  there.  The  sun  was  hot,  but  the  air  blew  in  soft  and 
sweet  from  the  sea  ahead.  The  blue  mountains  behind  me 
seemed  like  a  mighty  wall  touching  the  sky,  and  shutting  off  our 
strip  of  seacoast  from  all  the  northern  world.  The  road  was 
busy  with  processions  of  ox-carts,  loaded  with  hogsheads  of 
sugar  and  molasses  on  the  way  to  the  shipping  warehouses  at 
the  Port.  Huge  army  wagons,  little  public  carriages,  street 
vendors  calling  their  wares  in  strident  tones,  strings  of  pack- 
mules  bearing  huge  bundles  of  dried  codfish  from  the  ware- 
houses at  the  Port  up  toward  the  hills,  all  raised  the  fine  dust 
in  clouds,  and  filled  the  air  with  clamor.      But  I  liked  it  all, 

^  Marked  3  on  the  map;  the  site  of  the  large,  substantial  church  built  in 
1902,  dedicated  November  28  of  that  year. 


Dnnna 
DDDn 


UDDD 
DDDD 

HDD 


VILLA    ST. 


SBDDnnn 

n 


§□ 


DL 


DEDDL 


TO  CEMETERY 


MAP  OF  PONCE 
TO  1910 


KEY  TO  MAP: 

A- MAIN  PLAZA 

B- MARKET  PLAZA 

C  -OUR  HRST  MISSION  HALL 

D- SECOND 

E  -OUR  CHURCH 

F-COTTAQEON   I  ABEL  ST. 

Q-COTTAGE  ON  CRISTINA  5T 


Child    of    the    Sea [^ 

and  though  I  was  often  crowded  out  of  the  road  on  to  the 
narrow  side-paths,  the  pedestrians  were  always  good-natured 
enough  to  give  my  wheel  right  of  way.  I  hurried  in  order 
to  return  before  the  watering-carts  should  spill  seas  of  water 
over  the  road  and  reduce  the  dust  to  a  slippery  slime,  as  I 
have  had  more  than  one  skidding  spill  on  deluged  streets. 

I  have  been  visiting  once  a  week  one  of  Dr.  L 's  pa- 
tients at  the  Asilo  de  Damas,  a  small  hospital  in  town,  under 
the  auspices  of  the  wealthy  Roman  Catholic  ladies  of  the  city. 
Sarah,  a  Protestant  colored  woman,  was  taken  to  the  hospital 

by  Dr.   L ,   half  dead  with  typhoid   fever.      When  he 

found  that  the  "  nursing  Sisters  "  and  the  priests  were  worrying 
her  about  "  confession,"  he  asked  if  some  of  us  at  the  mission 
would  not  look  after  her  a  little.  Since  the  first  visit,  in 
company  with  Mrs.  R.,  I  have  been  going  alone,  each  time 
reading  the  English  Bible,  for  Sarah  is  a  Christian  and 
wanted  to  hear  it.  I  went  a  few  days  ago,  as  usual,  and  for 
the  first  time  was  received  ungraciously  by  an  attendant,  a 
stranger  to  me,  short,  fat,  eager-eyed,  a  Spanish  nun,  as  they 
all  are.  "  How  many  books  you  bring!  "  she  exclaimed,  as  I 
sat  down  by  Sarah's  bed  in  the  ward.  "  Yes,"  I  replied,  *'  I 
have  just  been  to  the  bank,  and  have  my  little  pass-book,  and 
this  is  a  note-book,  and  this  the  New  Testament — a  part  of  the 
Bible."  "Ah!  let  me  see  that  in  my  hands.  It  is  a  very 
bad  book  you  bring!  "  She  became  angrily  vociferous  at 
once,  and  some  one  must  have  called  the  Mother  Superior,  for 
she  came  into  the  ward,  and  sent  the  fierce  little  Sister  away. 
Then  she  talked  with  me  a  while,  and  there  was  something 
admirable  about  her  supercalm.  After  hearing  that  another 
nurse,  Sor  Milagros,  had  given  me  permission  to  read  to  Sarah 
in  Spanish  the  last  time,  the  Mother  Superior  agreed  that  I 
had  not  been  "  to  blame,"  but  I  must  not  do  so  again  nor  must 
I  talk  to  the  other  patients  in  the  ward  in  Spanish!     I  told  her 


[18] Child    of    the    Sea 

that  I  had  read  to  Sarah  in  Spanish  that  day,  out  of  courtesy 
to  the  "  Sister  "  who  did  not  know  EngHsh,  and  who  had 
sat  down  on  Sarah's  bed  to  hear  the  reading,  and  had  even 
put  in  a  word  of  explanation  to  Sarah  about  the  Psalm  verse 
I  was  reading. 

The  next  time  I  returned  to  the  hospital  with  a  new  bed- 
sack  I  had  made  for  Sarah,  who  was  getting  better,  the  fierce 
little  nun  was  on  guard  at  the  entrance,  and  would  on  no 
account  let  me  enter — but  she  accepted  the  sack  for  Sarah. 
I  did  not  wish  to  injure  the  feeble,  sick  woman  inside  by  over- 
persistence,  and  came  away  rather  indignant,  for  I  was  not 
even  allowed  to  step  inside  the  corridor. 

Therefore  I  went  today  to  speak  with  Dr.  L and  ask 

his  advice,  as  poor  Sarah  has  become  pathetically  dependent 
on  these  visits.     I  left  my  wheel  in  a  dark,  little  room  of  the 

custom-house  near  the  beach  and  climbed  to  Doctor  L *s 

office  on  the  second  floor.  He  wished  I  had  told  him  the 
week  before  of  the  encounter,  but  I  thought  it  was  just  as  well 
I  had  not  done  so  when  I  saw  the  flash  of  his  eyes!  How- 
ever, he  said  that  as  Sarah  would  be  leaving  the  hospital  in  a 
few  days,  he  would  not  act  in  the  matter  only,  perhaps,  with 
the  result  of  bringing  unpleasantness  upon  the  sick  woman's 
head.  And  so  it  ends.  He  will  let  me  know  when  she  goes 
back  to  her  little  room,  somewhere,  and  I  shall  do  what  I  can 
for  her  comfort. 

December  17,  1919. 

Yesterday,  I  found  a  roomful  of  listeners  in  a  house  in  the 
Cantera.  Men  and  women  usually  gather  about  the  door- 
ways, sit  on  the  floor — anywhere — on  the  occasion  of  visits 
from  the  americanos.  This  time  I  talked  and  read  steadily 
for  half-an-hour,  their  solemn  brown  eyes  fixed  upon  my  face. 
How  much  did  they  understand  of  what  it  was  all  about? 


Child    of    the    Sea U^ 

At  least  they  knew  that  the  person  sitting  on  the  soap-box 
with  the  httle  black  book  in  her  hand  and  reading  from  it 
in  their  own  language,  with  a  queer  pronunciation,  was  very 
much  in  earnest  about  something  new  to  their  thoughts!  And 
then  I  sang  to  them  from  the  httle  red  book.  Sometimes  one 
finds  that  some  one  has  had  a  Bible  at  home  without  realizing 
what  the  book  really  was.  A  day  or  two  ago,  an  old  white- 
haired  woman  began  to  tell  of  her  Bihlia,  carried  away  last 
summer  by  the  river-flood.  She  stood  before  us  as  she  talked 
and  recited  dramatically  in  her  own  words  the  incident  of  the 
woman  taken  before  Jesus  by  the  Pharisees,  which  she  said 
she  had  read  in  her  book.  I  found  the  chapter  in  my  Testa- 
ment and  showed  it  to  her,  and  she  at  once  plumped  herself 
down  on  the  trunk  beside  me  and  read  it  delightedly.  "  Why, 
it  is  the  very  same  book!  "  she  exclaimed,  clasping  her  hands 
with  joy. 

The  Cantera  was  devastated  by  that  awful  Hood.  It  hap- 
pened two  months  before  I  came,  but  I  hear  many  stories  told 
of  the  impoverishment  and  death  it  caused.  The  Portugues, 
the  same  river  which  flowed  so  peacefully  at  our  feet  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  first  baptisms,  swept  through  this  district,  and 
the  frail  shacks  of  homes  crumbled  into  the  muddy  current  like 
semd-houses  on  the  beach  at  high  tide  and,  broken  to  bits, 
were  swept  out  into  the  sea  two  miles  away.  The  frightful 
cloudbursts  of  rain  in  the  mountains  swelled  every  foot-trail 
into  blood-red  rushing  torrents  and  the  torrents  into  little  rivers, 
and  all  swept  down  the  passes  into  the  roaring  rivers  of 
the  coastlands.  It  is  said  that  two  thousand  drowned  bodies 
lay  in  heaps  in  the  streets  of  Ponce  and  La  Playa  the  day 
after  the  worst  of  the  flood,  many  of  them  unidentified  dead 
from  the  hills  above.  A  woman  tells  me  of  seeing  a  cart 
swept  past  her  cabin-door — the  cabin  was  on  posts  and  resisted 
the  current.     The  stream  was  wide,  and  there  were  seven 


[20]  Child    of    the    Sea 

little  children  in  the  cart,  who  stretched  out  their  arms,  scream- 
ing vainly  for  help  as  they  were  canied  off.  They  were  never 
heard  of  afterward.  This  woman  herself  lost  her  sister,  and 
spent  days  looking  for  her  body.  When  she  was  at  last  found, 
at  the  river's  mouth  two  miles  away  where  the  sea  and  river 
met  in  a  furious  "  backwater,"  the  poor  thing  held  a  strange 
little  dead  baby  clasped  in  her  own  dead  arms. 

My  health  is  as  good  as  possible.  The  weather  is  a  little 
cooler — 74°  tonight. 

December  18,  1899. 

My  first  women's  meeting  this  afternoon  in  the  home  of  Don 
Juan  Jose  Diaz,  at  the  far  eastern  end  of  Cristina  Street. 

Don  Juan  is  an  aged  man  who  attends  the  mission,  but  his 
wife  is  too  infirm  for  this  and  besides  is  still  wedded  to  her 
"  saints  "  which  line  the  wall  above  her  bed.  Several  women 
and  a  few  little  girls  came  to  meeting.  First  things  are  often 
interesting,  but  this  "  thing  "  is  meant  to  be  more  than  a  first 
one,  God  willing! 

December  21,  1899. 

Sarah  Romney  has  left  the  hospital,  well  enough,  at  last,  to 
return  to  her  rented  room.  She  is  as  thin  and  hungry-looking 
as  a  "  famine  sufferer,"  but  has  been  well  cared  for,  after  all, 
by  the  "  Sisters." 

Today,  I  rode  to  the  Cantera,  leaving  my  bicycle  in  Don 
Hermogenes'  house  on  reaching  the  impossible  street-ends  where 
steep  trails  lead  up  the  hill.  On  my  way,  a  shrieking,  drunken 
woman  rushed  up  to  me  and  embraced  me  so  tightly  that  I  had 
to  force  her  away. 

"  Oh!  how  I  love  you!  "  she  screamed. 

"  Then,  why  do  you  treat  me  so?  "  I  returned  indignantly, 
as  I  tore  myself  from  her  arms.     Her  ravings  soimded  behind 


¥ 

■f  -.y 

Mu 

J 

i 

«^H 

1 

i 

Under  the  Palm  at  La  Playa  Chapel 


Trunk  of  Ceiba  Tree,  where  N was  Saved 

Ponce 


Child    of    the    Sea l^U 

me  as  I  hurried  on,  men  guying  her  from  the  doors  of  the 
cantina. 

I  was  in  search  of  two  women  Hving  in  the  neighborhood, 
but  after  going  as  far  as  the  quarry  beyond  the  aqueduct 
failed  to  find  them,  after  all.      A  wasted  afternoon? 


Christmas  Eve,  1 899. 

The  baptisms,  this  afternoon,  were  at  a  curve  in  the  river 
much  nearer  towTi  than  before.  There  were  nine  women  and 
one  man  in  the  group  baptized,  and  a  few  "  brethren  and  sis- 
ters "  accompanied  us,  with  several  washerwomen  from  the 
rocky  banks  who  had  never  been  to  a  culto  and  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  of  what  we  were  about.      The  singing  was  very 

sweet  in  the  quiet  place.      N ,  one  of  the  women,  told  me 

after  all  was  over,  that  as  she  went  into  the  water,  she  saw, 
almost  overhead,  the  huge  old  ceiba  tree  in  which  she  was 
caught  as  the  flood  washed  her  down  the  river,  last  August. 
Her  house  went  to  pieces  away  up  in  the  Cantera,  and  the 
family  was  carried  down  the  current.  No  one  was  drowned, 
but  one  son  was  caught  in  sagging  telegraph-wires  and  badly 
cut   before   he   was   rescued.      "Saved   twice   right   here! 

N said  she  had  said  to  herself  as  she  entered  the  water 

this  afternoon.  Dear  women,  it  is  hard  for  some  of  them  to 
realize  that  baptism  is  not  a  life-saver,  as  they  have  been  taught 
even  of  the  "  cristianizing  "  of  their  babies. 

Christmas  Day,  1 899. 

We  had  a  fine,  fat  turkey  for  dinner.  Hot  sunshine,  per- 
fect air,  wide-open  doors  and  windows,  and  thin  white  dresses 
today. 

It  was  the  day  for  the  second  meeting  of  the  women  at  Don 


[22]   Child    of    the    Sea 

Juan  Jose's  house.     All  had  learned  the  first  two  verses  of 
Psalm  23,  and  to  sing  our  hymn. 

December  26,  1899. 

Tonight,  in  the  little  red  mission  hall  on  Comercio  Street, 
Mr.  R.  administered  the  Lord's  Supper  for  the  first  time. 
Twenty-four  out  of  the  twenty-eight  newly  baptized  were  pres- 
ent— a  touching  service.  Most  of  these  poor  people  have 
never  even  taken  the  wafer  at  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  so 
little  interest  has  been  taken  in  them  by  the  priests.  It  may 
have  seemed  a  queer  performance  to  those  crowding  about  the 
doors  and  windows  outside,  as  first  the  china  plate  with  the 
broken  bread  was  passed  to  each  of  us,  and  then  one  of  Mrs. 
Rudd's  glass  goblets  filled  with  wine  and  water  for  a  sip  all 
around.  Never  had  they  seen  anything  like  that  before !  Yet 
the  order  was  perfect,  and  those  on  the  sidewalk  scarcely 
stirred  from  beginning  to  end  of  the  culio.  I  should  like  to 
know  just  what  their  thoughts  were.  Nothing  could  have  sur- 
passed the  serious  enjoyment  of  those  favored  ones  inside  who 
shared  the  "  Supper." 

December  28,  1899. 

The  afternoon  was  occupied  with  the  business  of  trying  to 
get  old  Paula  into  the  Tricoche — the  city  hospital.  Her  own 
family's  faltering  consent  is  not  the  least  obstacle  in  the  way. 

December  29,  1899. 

A.  M.  To  the  alcaldia  (city  hall)  ;  to  the  hospital;  to 
charity  official ;  to  hospital  again ;  alcaldia. 

P.  M.  Alcaldia,  for  litter  and  bearers  (there  is  no  am- 
bulance) ;  Cantera  to  fetch  Paula  in  the  litter ;  hospital  with 
her.  pedaling  alongside  the  litter  borne  by  two  men. 


Child    of    the    Sea [23] 

December  31.  1899. 

The  young  mission  in  Adjuntas  needs  more  attention  than 
the  missionary  of  this  whole  district  can  give  it,  so  I  am  to  go 
there,  up  in  the  mountains,  to  stay  for  a  while  and  do  what 
may  be  done,  particularly  for  women  and  children. 

Yesterday,  I  returned  to  the  Tricoche  Hospital  to  see  how 
old  Paula  Martinez  was  doing  in  her  airy  corner  in  a  clean 
bed.  The  sunny  corner  of  the  ward  was  empty!  A  pic- 
turesque, rosy-cheeked  "  nursing  Sister "  informed  me  that 
Paula's  relations  had  come  for  her  and  carried  her  back  to 
their  house,  in  a  hammock.  They  were  "  ashamed  "of  what 
people  were  saying  of  their  letting  their  aunt  go  to  the  hospital. 
Poor,  sick,  unkempt  old  Paula,  you  will  soon  die  unless  the 
"  relations  "  take  better  care  of  you!  [She  died  three  days 
later.  ] 

Such  a  contrast  there  is  between  the  far-off  edges  of  the 
city,  and  the  pleasant  streets  about  the  plaza,  where  the  well- 
to-do  live!  The  only  sky-scraper  in  town  has  three  stories,  a 
few  of  the  older  houses  have  two,  but  most  have  only  one. 
These  last  are  pleasant  frame  or  stuccoed  cottages,  unadorned 
by  frippery  of  any  kind  except  in  their  coloring  of  blue,  yellow, 
pink,  green,  brown,  and  even  red. 

The  oldest  houses,  built  about  the  main  plaza,  are  of  brick 
and  plaster  and  are  very  substantial-looking,  with  iron  balconies 
at  the  up-stairs  windows,  the  ov^ers  or  tenants  living  in  the 
upper  stories,  while  offices  or  even  stores  occupy  the  ground 
floors,  directly  on  the  street. 

The  plaza  is  an  open  square,  not  beautiful  now,  as  the  river 
flooded  it  at  the  time  of  the  hurricane,  and  the  flower-beds 
and  walks  have  not  yet  recuperated,  for  only  a  few  scraggy 
plumbago  plants  are  blooming.  There  are  two  little  fountains, 
and  in  the  center  of  the  plaza  stands  a  Moorish  kiosko,  where 


[24] Child    of    the    Sea 

children  play  in  and  out  under  the  little  globular  domes  and 
arches,  and  the  beggars  rest  their  bones.  The  wide  sidewalk 
surrounding  the  plaza  is  planted  with  flamhoydn  trees,  of  the 
acacia  family,  which,  I  am  told,  bear  wonderful  flowers  in 
their  season,  of  flaming  scarlet  among  the  feathery  foliage. 
The  yellow-washed  Roman  Catholic  church,  with  its  jangling 
bells,  stands  on  one  side  of  the  plaza,  in  the  central  location  in 
which  we  usually  find  such  churches. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [25] 


III 


All  seems  beautiful  to  me, 

I  can  repeat  over  to  men  and  women.  You  have  done 

Such  good  to  me,  I  would  do  the  seune  to  you. 

—Walt  Whilman. 

Ponce.  P.  R.. 
January  4,   1900. 

LAST  night  was  disturbing,  with  pistol-shots  ringing  out 
close  by,  and  the  noise  of  much  talking  outside  in  the 
street.  It  seems  strange  to  be  obliged,  even  with  men  in 
the  house,  to  close  all  the  solid  storm-shutters  at  night,  for  safety 
from  thieves.  But  everybody  does  it  in  these  frail  cottages,  or 
the  thief  arrives,  walks  in  at  any  window,  and  steals.  Many 
Americans'  homes  have  been  entered  lately,  but  nothing  seems 
to  be  done  about  arresting  any  one.  We  have  heard  stealthy 
hands  feeling  at  our  shutters  more  than  once  from  the  pave- 
ment outside,  and  a  man  standing  on  the  ground  might  easily 
step  inside  if  agile  enough,  and  if  the  sashless  windows  were 
open! 

Rats  and  mice  are  responsible  for  many  noises  at  night,  in 
these  old,  old  houses.  Cockroaches  are  a  nuisance  also — 
great,  brown  creatures  that  scuttle  up  and  down  the  walls, 
rattling  the  papering  as  they  go,  or  make  sudden  flights,  falling 
with  heavy  thuds  to  the  floor  or  lighting  uncannily  on  one's 
mosquito-bar.  The  hot,  little  loft  of  our  cottage,  under  the 
zinc  roof,  is  infested  with  bats,  which  flutter  and  flap  and 
squeak  above  the  ceilings  all  night  long.  Sometimes  a  spider, 
which  could  not  be  covered  by  a  teacup  without  a  drawing  up 
of  hairy  legs,  creeps  out  of  a  crack  in  my  room — but  all  of 


[26] Child    of    the    Sea 

these  are  perfectly  harmless,  as  are  the  small  brown  lizards 
that  run  over  the  rugs  and  in  and  out  of  the  books  on  the 
shelves,  hunting  flies  and  cockroaches.  Wonderful  to  tell, 
flies  are  few  and  we  need  no  screens  in  the  windows.  Mos- 
quitoes, however,  make  ravaging  amends  for  the  harmlessness 
of  the  other  "animals,"  as  my  German  friend  on  the  ship 
called  them,  and  ants  are  an  unmitigated  nuisance  when  food 
is  about.  One  night,  I  set  a  plate  of  cookies  on  a  wall- 
bracket  in  the  bedroom,  thinking  that  the  ants  would  not  find 
it  there.  In  the  dark,  later  on,  I  took  down  the  plate  and  bit 
off  a  mouthful  of  a  cake  and  of — ants!  For  a  second,  my 
mouth  was  alive,  and  a  nasty,  bitter  taste  of  ants  taught  me  a 
wholesome  lesson.  There  is  a  dangerous  black  centipede  in 
the  Island,  but  it  is  not  common,  and  in  my  three  months  on 
the  Island  I  have  seen  but  two.  They  were  clinging  to  the 
stem  of  a  coffee-shrub  in  the  garden  of  the  Governor's  summer 
palace  in  Rio  Piedras. 

Mr.  R.  is  in  Adjuntas  on  his  bimonthly  trip,  and  has 
rented  a  room  in  a  warehouse,  for  mission  services.  Hitherto, 
there  have  been  occasional  cultos  there,  held  in  private  houses 
of  "  believers,"  but  this  is  to  be  a  real  beginning.  Mrs. 
R.  and  the  little  folks  spent  part  of  last  summer  in  Ad- 
juntas, and  she  gathered  the  children  on  Sundays  into  their 
tiny  house  for  teaching,  and  whenever  the  missionary  himself 
could  be  there,  preaching  services  were  arranged.  Already  a 
few  are  asking  for  baptism  and  for  a  chapel.  So  "  the  Work  " 
begins,  here  and  there! 

The  Roman  Catholic  priest  is  said  to  be  a  disreputable  old 
person,  gambling  in  public,  and  whisking  into  his  gown  when 
needed  in  the  church.  This  does  not  seem  to  me  laughable.  I 
think  of  the  people  who  have  no  better  guide. 

There  is  an  American  cavalry  troop  stationed  in  the  little 
mountain  town. 


Child    of    the    Sea [27] 

Adjuntas,  p.  R,, 

1  700  feet  above  the  sea, 

January  13,  1900. 

At  8  o'clock  this  morning,  Mr.  T and  I  left  Ponce,  in 

a  strong  hired  carriage,  with  a  good  coachman  driving  the  pair 
of  plump,  cream-colored  horses.  For  tvv^o  hours  or  so,  the 
drive  was  beautiful,  northwestward  along  the  Spanish  Road  as 
far  as  it  has  ever  been  finished.  But  this  fine  highway  ends 
abruptly  at  a  point  called  the  Empalme,  the  Junction ;  so  after 
the  hours  of  comfortable  progress,  there  came  a  long,  hcird 
pull  upward,  together  with  the  dash  downward  at  the  end,  of 
three  hours  of  mountain  road.  From  the  summit  of  the  Pass 
the  views  were  very  fine,  of  valleys  and  slopes,  with  triangular 
glimpses  of  the  blue  sea  far  down  behind  us.  Along  the  way, 
there  were  cocoa  and  royal  palms  at  first,  then  farther  on  beau- 
tiful tree  ferns,  wild  cannas  in  vivid  bloom,  dense  plantain 
growth  about  wee  huts,  and  coffee  plantations  climbed  with  us, 
and  after  a  while  descended  with  us  on  the  far  side  of  the  Pass 
quite  into  the  high  Adjuntas  valley. 

At  1  o'clock  we  reached  the  little  inn  and  "  breakfast." 
I  have  a  room  in  the  inn,  on  the  edge  of  the  flowery  plaza, 
in   the  very  heart   of  the  little  mountain   towTi.     Almost   in 
sight  down  the  street,  is  the  warehouse,  formerly  the  military 
hospital,  where  we  have  a  rented  room  for  cu//os. 

Sunday,  January  14,  1900. 

A  superb  day,  shining  clear,  with  the  mercury  at  59°  at 
7  a.  m.  A  mixed  assemblage  awaited  us  in  the  mission  hall 
this  morning,  mostly  of  children,  eager,  sociable,  noisy.  Mr. 
T held  an  afternoon  service  at  the  mission  for  the  Ameri- 
can soldiers  in  barracks,  on  this  street.  Only  three  of  the 
whole  troop  accepted  his  invitation,  but  he  talked  to  those  three 


[28] Child    of    the    Sea 

as  if  there  had  been  a  hundred  present,  and  we  sang  and  sang, 
with  no  "  instrument  "  to  help  our  tired  voices.  Young  Den- 
nis H is  not  yet  seventeen,  and  has  a  good,  sweet  face. 

He  said  this  was  the  first  reHgious  service  he  had  attended  since 
leaving  New  York,  nine  months  ago.  .  .  Some  of  us  will  be  glad 
when  our  United  States  troops  are  called  home  from  the  Island. 

A  multitude  flocked  to  the  warehouse  room  tonight,  mostly 
of  plainly  dressed  men  and  women  with  intent,  sober  faces. 

How  seriously  they  take  the  cultos!      Mr.   T speaks 

Spanish  well,  and  we  had  a  good  meeting,  with  rather  inhar- 
monious singing,  as  few  know  anything  about  the  hynm  music, 
yet  all  try  to  sing — especially  the  blessed  children. 

Mr.  T returns  to  Ponce  tomorrow,  and  I  shall  be  left 

to  paddle  my  own  canoe  in  this  strange  place,  where  we  have 
not  a  single  "  member,"  and  the  cultos  are  not  much  more  than 
a  novel  entertainment  as  yet.  But  the  guarding  mountains 
stand  round  about,  and  the  river  goes  singing  by,  and  in  all 
these  little  homes,  and  in  the  thatched  huts  tucked  away  among 
the  plantains  and  the  bananas,  there  are  souls  to  be  shown  the 
Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life!     And  always,  there  is  God. 

January  18.  1900. 

"Ain't  you  lost?*'  An  amazed  American  soldier  stood 
still  in  the  river  path  outside  of  town,  to  greet  me,  and  then 
declared  that  it  seemed  "  mighty  curious  "  to  be  seeing  an 
American  lady  up  there  in  the  wilds. 

Las  Vacas — The  Cows — is  a  picturesque  little  river,  low 
and  noisy  now  in  the  dry  season.  It  reminds  me  of  the  Lima 
at  Cutigliano,  Italy,  with  rounded  boulders  in  its  bed,  the 
noisy  dashing  water  fussing  about  them,  and  with  quiet  brown 
pools  under  the  banks.  But,  instead  of  chestnut  woods  cov- 
ering the  steep  mountainsides  rising  from  the  river  road,  we 


Child    of    the    Sea      [29]^ 

have   guama    and    pumarosa    and    mango    trees    shading    the 
coffee-shrubs  planted  on  all  these  mountain  slopes. 

January  26.  1900. 

More  than  fifty  children  come  to  afternoon  class,  three 
times  a  week,  in  the  smelly  old  warehouse,  sit  in  the  tipsy 
folding  chairs,  sing  happy  songs,  and  hear  the  old,  old  stories 
of  the  Bible.  There  is  much  sickness  and  sorrow  in  this  dis- 
trict of  the  Island,  for  the  hurricane  did  its  worst  in  these 
mountains.  The  people  are  friendly,  and  some  are  wonder- 
ing if  the  Bible  may  not  be  a  good,  safe  book  after  all ! 

Last  night,  the  missionary  was  up  from  Ponce  for  a 
preaching  service.  A  seething  mass  of  children  filled  the  back- 
less benches — the  chairs  are  left  for  grown  folks  on  meeting- 
nights — eager  to  sing  for  Mr.  Rudd  the  hymns  we  have  been 
learning.  The  dear  things  never  tire  of  the  longest  service, 
and  rarely  fall  asleep,  unless  they  are  mere  babies. 

The  worm-eaten  benches,  topply  chairs,  a  pine  table  for  the 
lamp  and  Bible,  and  a  chair  for  the  preacher  are  the  furnish- 
ings of  our  chapel,  and  the  big,  dingy  hall  is  dimly  lighted  by 
one  or  two  lamps,  and  by  candles  set  on  brackets  against  the 
wall.  The  "  brackets  "  are  two  bits  of  wood  nailed  together 
and  fastened  to  the  wall. 


Yesterday,   I   had   a   long,   and  perhaps  unprofitable  talk 

with  Don  J ,  about  his  creed  and  ours.     He  is  a  rabid 

espiriiisla,  spiritualist,  denies  the  human,  material  form  of 
Jesus  on  earth,  denies  the  shedding  of  real  blood  on  the  cross, 
believes  in  reincarnation  after  death,  denies  eternal  punishment, 
and — declares  that  our  beliefs  are  the  same  except  for  unim- 
portant differences  about  minor  points!  Several  of  his  children 
attend  the  mission  class,  and  his  wife  is  a  nice  little  woman. 


[30] Child    of    the    Sea 

There  is  a  tiny  Roman  Catholic  church  here,  a  barnlikc 
place,  having  no  more  look  of  church  or  chapel  than  has  our 
hall,  except  that  there  is  a  little  cross  atop  the  gable,  and  a  bell 
hangs  on  a  frame  close  beside  the  entrance.  Two  wide  doors 
open  outward  like  those  of  a  carriage-house,  showing  the  altar 
at  the  far  end,  an  image  of  Mary  at  one  side,  and  a  few  seats 
here  and  there.  But  they  know  how  to  arrange  brave  little 
functions  inside,  with  lights  and  music,  for  the})  have  a  small 
organ!  No  doubt  the  tawdry  finery  about  the  altar,  of  images, 
of  altar-cloth  and  gay  paper  flowers  and  lighted  candles,  is  at- 
tractive to  the  simple  country  people.  The  plaster  image  of 
Mary  is  dressed  in  her  own  colors  of  white  or  blue,  or  in  mourn- 
ing according  to  the  church  season,  and  the  wife  of  a  prominent 
townsman  has  the  keeping  of  the  wardrobe  of  the  "  Mother  of 
God,"  her  robes  and  veils  and  jewels.  I  can  never  laugh  at 
these  superstitions  and  useless  rites  but  my  heart  rejoices  in  the 
hope  that  there  is  in  the  future  something  better  for  these  Ad- 
juntas  people.  One  day,  recently,  I  stopped  to  look  inside,  as 
I  had  already  done  by  night.  There  was  a  paper  or  two  fast- 
ened on  the  inside  of  one  half  of  the  door,  which  stands  open 
all  day  directly  upon  the  road  passing  by.  As  it  was  evidently 
meant  for  the  public  eye,  I  read  it  and,  standing  there  outside, 
began  to  copy  a  part  of  it.  It  was  the  tarlfa,  or  tariff,  of 
charges  for  baptism,  marriage,  and  burial  functions  by  the  priest. 

I  had  nearly  finished  copying  the  items  I  was  interested  in, 
when  the  fat,  red-faced  priest  came  down  the  road,  bare- 
headed, hurried,  and  with  no  pleasant  expression  on  his  face 
as  he  brushed  past  me  through  the  doorway.  After  a  few 
moments,  I  found  a  long,  black  arm  stretching  across  my 
v^iting-pad  as  the  priest  drew  the  door  to,  with  a  Permitame, 
Senora,  and  I  was  left  outside  in  front  of  the  closed  doors! 
Now,  why  did  he  not  wish  me  to  copy  that  public  list  of  his 
parishioners'  religious  expenses? 


Child    of    the    Sea  [3^1 

Dona  Paula  tells  me  that  the  price  for  baptism  has  been 
fixed  at  one  dollar  because.  State  support  having  been  taken 
from  the  Church  and  the  priests,  on  the  Island's  passing  from 
Spain's  hands  to  ours,  they  must  raise  their  own  salaries  by  the 
tarifa,  or  depend  on  free-will  offerings  from  their  parishoners. 
Another  has  told  me  that  she  has  subscribed  forty  centavos  a 
month  to  the  cure,  but  she  told  the  soliciting  committee  that  if 
she  heard  of  his  gambling,  she  would  stop  giving  even  that. 

Here  are  some  of  the  items  of  the  larifa  which  I  noted : 

1 .  Burial  mass  sung,  for  an  adult 3.00   pesos  ^ 

2.  The  same  for  a  child .« _ _  2.00 

3.  Full  burial  mass  sung _ _ _ 5.00 

4.  The  same,  with  procession  from  the  house 

to  the  church _ „ _ _ ......  10.00      " 

And  so  it  runs,  up  to  31 .00  pesos  with  perhaps  the  procession 
from  house  to  church,  the  function  in  the  church,  the  proces- 
sion to  the  cemetery,  or  *'  pauses  "  on  the  way  for  chanting 
(each  of  these  stoppages  6.00  pesos)  the  burial  office,  and  so 
on.  Solemn  memorial  masses,  with  organ  and  music,  cost 
16.25  pesos.  Solemn  masses  for  the  dead  with  deacons,  in- 
cense, responses,  are  5.87  pesos. 

Then  baptisms  of  infants  or  of  adults  cost  1 .00  peso. 

I  had  come  finally  to  *'  Matrimony  [marriage]  at  the  or- 
dinary hour,  that  is  from  six  a.  m.  until  nine  of  the  same  .  .  .'* 
when  the  long  black  arm  drew  the  door  to,  and  I  could  not 
learn  how  much  is  charged,  today,  for  a  marriage!  But,  a 
young  carpenter  here  tells  me  that  he  "  bought  "  his  good  wife, 
some  years  ago  (not  from  this  priest),  for  sixty-five  pesos.  He 
tells  it  as  a  joke,  and  knows  that  she  was  worth  more  than  any 
money  he  could  have  paid  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  for  its 

*  One  Spanish  peso  equals  sixty  cents  in  U.  S.  currency. 


[32]  Child    of    the    Sea 

blessing.  It  is  a  fact  that  thousands  of  couples  in  the  Island 
are  not  married  at  all,  and  too  many  of  these  have  desired  bet- 
ter things  without  being  able  to  pay  the  price.  It  is  not  strange 
that  missionaries  are  now  being  beset  to  marry  couples.  Even 
grandparents,  who  have  been  faithful  to  each  other  "  without 
benefit  of  clergy,"  now  "  stand  up  "  before  the  mmister  and  go 
smilingly  away  afterward ! 

Almost  every  day,  often  many  times  a  day,  I  see  the  dead 
brought  in  from  the  country  for  burial.  It  matters  not  how  far 
away  on  the  mountainsides  they  may  die,  they  must  be  taken  to 
the  nearest  town  for  burial.  Some  caimot  afford  to  provide  a 
regular  coffin  made  by  a  carpenter,  and  their  dead  must  take 
their  last  journey  down  the  steep  trails,  in  open  frames  borne  on 
the  shoulders  of  friends  or  hired  peons,  a  cloth  spread  over  the 
body,  which  is  usually  dressed  in  its  best.  I  have  seen  such  an 
open  box  on  the  floor  just  inside  of  the  church  door,  waiting  for 
the  priest  to  come  and  say  a  Latin  prayer,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
holy  water,  before  the  journey  is  again  taken  up  to  end  in  a 
hole  in  the  cemetery.  The  country  people  are  dying  fast  of 
the  starvation,  exposure,  wounds,  and  disease  resulting  from 
the  hurricane.  Day  before  yesterday,  I  saw,  from  the  little 
porch  of  the  inn,  a  corpse  wrapped  in  a  sheet  and  borne  past  in 
the  usual  way.  I  followed  the  carriers  to  the  cemetery,  to  see, 
for  once,  how  these  desolate  ones  from  the  mountain  ways  are 
buried.  Several  American  soldiers  stood  about  the  gaping 
graves  opened  on  all  sides,  and  we  talked  together,  while 
watching  the  men  at  their  gruesome  tasks.  There  were  six 
bodies  lying  on  the  ground  awaiting  their  turn. 

We  saw  the  men  lift  the  body  of  a  lady  from  the  open 
plank  frcime,  saw  the  pale,  dead  face  shrouded  in  a  black  lace 
mantilla,  but  I  gasped  when  they  put  her  down  into  the  shal- 
low grave  just  as  she  was,  without  a  coffin  or  even  the  sheet 
wrapping.    A  little  box  full  of  roses  and  jessamines  lay  on  the 


Child    of    the    Sea  [33] 

ground  close  by.  "  It  is  nothing  but  flowers,"  one  of  the  sol- 
dier lads  said  to  me  consolingly,  as  I  shuddered  when  one  of 
the  men  picked  it  up  and  swept  his  hand  through  the  flowers. 
I  had  so  dreaded  to  see — what  I  did  see  next,  a  tiny  Utile, 
Tvaxen  face  among  the  roses  and  Wee  folded  hands.  But  I 
looked  away  while  the  man  turned  over  the  pasteboard  box, 
and  literally  dumped  the  dead  baby,  with  its  flowers,  out  of  it 
and  down  into  the  hole  where  the  poor  lady  lay.  I  came 
away  sick  at  heart.  Miles  away  in  the  hills  there  were  those 
who  were  sorrowing  for  those  two,  and  for  the  others  lying 
near,  and  I  could  not  know  who  they  were — nobody  about 
knew.  At  least,  there  was  none  of  the  brutal  laughter  I  had 
heard  of  as  accompanying  these  scenes,  although  the  men  were 
rough,  hired  peons.  After  each  burial  one  of  them  went  off 
with  the  empty  frame  to  store  it  for  future  use.  A  cloud  set- 
tled over  my  spirits  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

I  enjoy  my  little  sheep  in  the  warehouse  fold.  They  are 
learning  to  sing  easy  hymns,  which  they  must  be  taught  by 
memory,  line  upon  line,  and  simple  lessons  about  God's  work 
in  the  world  about  us.  They  nearly  smothered  me  with  flow- 
ers on  the  day  they  brought  to  the  class  "  samples  "  of  the 
third  period  of  creation,  for  any  one  may  gather  the  lovely 
roses  and  the  splendid  hibiscus  flowers  and  the  white  jessamine 
from  the  plaza — a  perfect  garden  of  plants  and  little  flowering 
trees.  When  we  learned  about  the  knowledge  of  sin  awaken- 
ing in  men's  hearts  when  they  first  began  to  know  God  and  his 
good  laws,  I  was  rejoiced  to  begin  telling  my  children,  also, 
how  we  may  grow  away  from  sin,  through  Jesus  our  Saviour. 
May  this  be  my  story  for  every  sin-stricken  heart! 

Jesus!  He  is  little  more  than  a  name  here,  so  far  as  any 
experience  of  him  as  Life  and  Light  is  concerned.  And  his 
name  is  on  every  lip  as  one  of  the  most  common  expletives. 


[34]  Child    of    the    Sea 


January  27.  1900. 

I  have  moved  to  a  small  room  in  a  private  house,  across  the 
plaza  from  the  inn  v/here  I  am  still  to  take  my  meals.  Doria 
Clara's  was  once  one  of  the  best  houses  in  Adjuntas,  but  it  is 
out  of  repair,  and  the  cloudbursts  of  rain  did  their  part  toward 
destruction.  The  canvas  ceiling  of  my  room  is  stained  and 
bulging,  from  the  water  that  poured  in  when  the  cyclone 
stripped  off  the  sheets  of  zinc  roofing.  Blue  roses  climb  over 
the  bilious-yellow  wall-paper,  and  the  floor  is  worm-eaten,  but 
they  are  making  all  as  clean  as  possible,  and  the  narrow  iron 
bedstead  is  spread  with  elaborate  white.  Dear  old  Doiia 
Clara  has  not  the  means  to  repair  the  house,  and  she  is  frail 
and  aged,  cared  for  by  a  very  energetic  Dona  Lola,  who 
promises  to  be  as  solicitous  for  my  welfare  as  she  is  for  that  of 
all  under  this  roof.  For  Dona  Clara  is  housing  many  rela- 
tives, penniless  refugees  from  the  hills,  feeding  and  clothing 
them  as  well. 

Yesterday,  I  went  to  see  P 's  baby,  which  had  not 

then  many  more  hours  to  suffer  with  brain  fever — poor,  pretty 
little  thing!  For,  today,  the  father  came  early  to  say  that  it 
was  dead.      With  white  flowers  from  the  plaza  I  went  at  once 

to  P 's  house.     The  little  creature  looked  like  a  pale  wax 

doll  in  its  white  shroud.  As  the  candle-light  flickered  over 
the  sweet  lips  they  seemed  once  to  move  in  a  baby  smile,  and 
my  heart  beat  hard  with  the  curious  awe  one  feels  in  the  pres- 
ence of  death,  even  in  an  infant!  Now,  there  is  one  less  hun- 
gry mouth  to  feed  in  the  family  of  many  children — and  no 

work  for  P ,  but  the  mother  wails.  "  Me  hace  falta  mi 

n'mita!"  Of  course  she  "  misses  "  her  baby-girl.  Both  par- 
ents come  to  the  mission,  and  P pores  over  his  New  Tes- 
tament in  patient  study.  After  a  while  they  will  know  that  a 
little  dead  nifia  does  not  need  candles  to  light  her  way! 


Child    of    the    Sea [35] 

The  weather  is  perfect,  with  cold  nights,  bright,  de\vy 
mornings,  hot  noons,  and  then  the  coohng  decHne  of  the  day. 
Today,  a  misting  rain  falls  now  and  then,  with  brilliant  sun- 
shine at  intervals.  Just  now,  a  white  rain  veils  the  Sleeping 
Giant's  profile  lifted  high  against  the  sky.  A  panorama  of 
green  hills  and  dark  mountain  slopes  unrolls  before  my  eyes  as 
I  sit  in  my  doorway,  looking  across  the  litde  plaza  -gay  with 
flowers  and  sparkling  with  raindrops.  .  .  Now,  as  it  still  rains, 
I  must  finish  my  letter  to  "  Echoes,"  for  the  next  mail  down  the 
mountain  to  the  ship. 

Later:  Doiia  Paula  and  Paulita  came  by  for  me,  for  our 
long-planned  walk   up   the   river   to   the  plantation   of   Don 

C .     The  family  are  the  relatives  of  the  dear  Cuban 

couple  of  my  voyage  from  New  York,  and  Mrs.  Arango  had 

urged  me  to  visit  them.     Don  C is  of  Aragon,  Spain. 

I  found  a  spacious  country  house,  full  of  kindliness.  There 
are  several  daughters  and  sons,  besides  the  hospitable  heads  of 

the  house.    Don  C lost  the  shade-trees  so  necessary  to  the 

well-being  of  the  coffee,  and  his  plantation  is  a  wreck  since 
the  hurricane.  The  tiers  of  immense  open  trays  for  drying  the 
coffee-berry  were  pushed  away  empty  and  useless  on  their 
frames  under  the  house.  This  was  a  first  call  of  ceremony, 
and  I  hope  to  go  again,  and  alone,  that  we  may  come  closer 
together  and  talk  of  the  things  most  near  my  heart.  For  the 
planter  in  his  home  may  need  my  message  as  much  as  the  poor 
peons  on  his  estate,  to  give  courage  and  hope. 


January  30,  1900. 

A  poor  mother  has  just  brought  me  two  children,  a  girl  and 
a  boy,  immaculately  clean,  for  this  afternoon's  class.  Her 
anxiety  that  they  should  be  with  me,  and  her  distress  at  learn- 
ing that  I  may  not  be  here  much  longer,  were  touching.     What 


[36] Child    of    the    Sea 

shall  I  do?  Ought  I  to  leave  these  people  who  place  such 
winning  confidence  in  me,  who  seem  to  hope  so  much,  at  least 
for  their  children,  from  my  being  here?  The  constant  problem 
of  the  missionary  needed  in  many  places  at  once! 

Roman  Catholic  M says  to  me:  "  It  is  the  novelty  of 

it,  Serlora.  You  will  see  that  though  they  crowd  to  your  cultos, 
they  will  not  hold  on  after  the  newness  wears  off."  Doubtless 
M is  right  about  some  who  come  to  us.  There  are  never- 
theless some  who  of  their  own  free  will  will  "  hold  on." 

After  the  class,  I  went  to  see  the  old  negress,  whose  cabin 

is  being  repaired  by  means  of  the  dollar sent  me  "  to 

help  some  poor  person."  I  hope  the  palm  thatching  will  be  on 
before  the  rains  begin  in  earnest.  There  are  scarcely  any  ne- 
groes up  here  in  the  mountains,  but  there  is  a  famous  colored 
cook  at  the  little  inn 

Eight  or  ten  women  is  all  I  have  been  able  to  gather  for 
their  class,  on  one  afternoon  in  each  week.  It  is  easier 
to  meet  them  in  their  homes,  along  the  river-bank  and  up  the 
steep  trails. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [37] 


IV 

Then  let  us  pray  that  come  it  may. 

As  come  it  will,   for  a'  that; 
That  sense  and  worth  o'er  a'  the  earth 
May  bear  the  gree  and  a'  that. 
For  a'  that  and  a'  that. 

It's  coming  yet  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man  the  warld  o'er, 

Shall  brothers  be  for  a'  that. — Burns. 

Adjuntas,  p.  R., 
February  2,   1900. 

PORTO  RICANS  may  know  nothing  about  the  ground- 
hog's shadow,  but  there  will  be  bonfires,  candelas,  on  the 
mountains  tonight  whether  the  sun  shines  today  or  not. 
It  is  the  fiesta  of  Candelaria,  or  Candlemas,  and  the  town  is  full 
of  peasants  from  the  hills  about,  and  the  little  Roman  Catholic 
chapel  is  crowded  with  men  and  women  in  clean  clothes, 
patched,  and  much  stained  with  the  indelible  plantain  juice. 
As  I  sat  quietly  in  my  room,  after  a  peep  into  the  crowded 
chapel  at  mass  time,  a  neighbor  came  in,  to  discuss  her  belief 
and  mine.  Rather  a  trying  talk.  I  never  seek  those  useless  dis- 
cussions in  which  there  is  no  desire  shown  for  learning  the  truth, 
when  a  loud-voiced  torrent  of  language  and  endless  repetitions 
of  tradition  drown  one's  own  speech.  Very  little  is  ever  gained 
by  such  discussions,  yet  one  cannot  quite  hold  one's  peace! 
Such  was  the  talk,  also,  at  the  house  of  Don  Carlos,  a  day  or 
so  ago.  He  himself  believes  nothing,  he  says,  but  fears  losing 
caste  among  the  higher  folk,  if  he  sends  his  children  to  the 

mission.     He  says  that  the  C s  and  the  S s,  et  al.,  do 

not  attend  our  cultos,  and  that  he  was  attacked  on  all  sides 


[38]  Child    of    the    Sea 

for  allowing  his  children  to  attend  Mrs.  R.'s  class  last  summer. 
Bless  the  children ! 

After  the  class,  this  afternoon,  I  rested  in  the  plaza  at  saber- 
drill  time.  Our  soldiers  show  off  best  in  their  drills,  fine,  up- 
standing men.  It  is  not  their  fault  that  the  barracks  are 
merely  a  long  warehouse  standing  flush  with  the  street,  whose 
doors  open  directly  upon  the  sidewalk,  so  that  even  legitimate 
lounging  must  be  in  the  face  of  every  passer-by.  The  little 
boys  admire  them  immensely,  and  are  even  catching  up  the 
faulty  Spanish  some  of  them  indulge  in,  besides  not  a  few 
dubious  English  expletives.  I  was  "  damned  "  in  English  a 
day  or  so  ago  by  a  soft-eyed  cherub  who  evidently  thought  he 
was  telling  the  americana  an  innocent  "  Howdy." 

One  needs  more  fruit  and  green  things  to  eat  than  can  be 
found  here,  for  it  will  be  long  before  these  mountain  patches 
of  gardens  and  farms  recover  from  the  blasting  hurricane 
enough  to  bear  as  before.  One  can  scarcely  buy  an  orange 
or  a  plain  lettuce  leaf. 

February  5,  1900. 

Ugly,  little,  fat  Ramona,  servant-maid  to  our  neighbor, 
Doiia  Adela,  sat  on  the  floor  of  our  porch  tonight,  in  the 
moonlight.  We  were  listening  to  the  village  band  playing  plain- 
tive airs  in  the  plaza  opposite.  Said  Ramona  with  a  sigh, 
"  The  dead  cannot  hear  the  music!  "  Some  one  explained 
that  she  was  thinking  of  her  father,  who  died  last  week.  "  Per- 
haps he  does  hear  the  music,"  I  said  softly;  "  I  do  not  know 
certainly  about  it,  but  he  may  be  hearing  even  more  beautiful 
music  as  the  angels  sing  songs  of  praise  to  God."  (What 
really  better  way  have  we  of  expressing  in  words  the  inex- 
pressible joys  of  the  future  life  than  the  sacred  writers  them- 
selves used?)  Ramona's  father  should  have  the  benefit  of  all 
uncertainties  for  the  child's  sake! 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

"And  he  may  be  dressed  all  in  white!  "  the  little  girl 
added.  Then  in  her  queer,  peasant  speech,  she  told  me  of  her 
father,  of  how  he  had  loved  her,  the  youngest,  and  how  the 
last  time  he  had  come  down  the  mountain  into  Ad  juntas,  he 
had  kissed  her,  and  blessed  her,  and  promised  to  come  again 
the  next  Sunday.  "  I  kept  some  coffee  and  bread  for  him  '* 
(her  own  portion  doubtless),  "  but  he  did  not  come.  If  they 
had  told  me  he  was  sick,  I  would  have  gone  to  him.  I 
dreamed  about  him,  last  night." 

"  So  you  loved  him  very  much?  " 

**  A^!  Senora!  And  now,  who  will  keep  account  of  my 
years?      He  always  did  it." 

She  says  she  will  be  twelve  in  April,  and  I  told  her  to 
keep  account  of  her  own  years  now,  to  be  a  faithful  little 
maid,  and  to  ask  God  to  take  care  of  her,  because  he  loved 
her  and  was  her  Father.  "  They  say  I  shall  forget  my  fa- 
ther, after  a  while,  but  I  know  I  shall  not,"  was  said  with 
such  conviction  that  I  told  her  it  had  been  twenty-six  years, 
that  very  day,  since  my  mother  died,  and  that  I  had  never 
forgotten  her,  and  the  child  seemed  comforted. 


February  10,   1900. 

Mr.  T came  up  yesterday,  from  Ponce,  and  with  him 

I  have  had  my  first  horseback  trip  over  the  mountains.  Mr. 
R.,  the  missionary-in-charge,  or  some  one  else,  comes  every 
fortnight  for  preaching  on  Sunday  in  our  mission  hall,  and  these 
are  red-letter  days  for  us  all.  I  very  much  covet  teaching 
additional     to     my     owTi,     for     these     people.       We     were 

bound  for  Don  Bernadino  S 's  house,  over  beyond  the 

Giant's  head.  It  was  a  steep  climb  along  the  Mala  de  pldtanos 
trail,  and  a  rough  experience  for  me.  But  I  held  on  to  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle,  and  after  an  hour's  steady  climb  we 


[40]  Child    of    the    Sea 

reached  the  breezy  upland  over  the  mountain  line  which  I  have 
so  often  gazed  at  from  Doiia  Clara's  porch.  Don  B.'s  house 
stands  exposed  to  the  strong  north  w^ind,  which  blew  all  day, 

but  we  received  a  warm  welcome  into  open  arms.    Mr.  T 

held  a  short  service  with  the  elders  of  the  interesting  family, 
and  there  were  present  also  geese,  dogs,  chickens,  and  babies 
promiscuous.  They  gave  us  a  good  "  breakfast "  at  1  p.  m., 
consisting  of  roast  chicken,  eggs,  a  salad,  and  a  sweet,  with 
coffee. 

Don  B.  is  a  "  candidate  "  for  baptism,  having  heard  Mr. 
R.  preach  in  town,  on  some  of  his  own  trips  down  to  Adjuntas 
to  market  the  produce  of  his  little  farm.  He  is  a  fine  old 
man,  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  tall  and  gray,  wdth  wife  and 
sons  and  daughters,  as  well  as  "  in-laws  " — quite  a  patriarch. 

We  left  early  for  the  downward  trip.  From  one  of  the  ex- 
posed cliffs  on  our  trail,  we  saw  Adjuntas  lying  far  below, 
looking,  with  its  many  corrugated  zinc  roofs  catching  the  sun- 
Hght,  like  a  mere  sheet  of  tin  lying  in  a  hollow  of  the  hills. 

Looking  up  now,  from  our  porch,  to  the  Giant's  head,  it 
seems  to  me  impossible  that  we  could  have  crawled  over  toward 
his  other  cheek  today! 

We  have  had  the  evening  chapel  service;  and  Dona  Lola's 
kind  hands  have  rubbed  down  my  aching  muscles  with  alco- 
holadol 

February  14,  1900. 

It  is  a  wonderful  experience  to  see  the  sun  rise  over  these 
mountains.  Long  before  it  touches  the  sweet  little  plaza  with 
its  flower-hedged  paths,  the  Giant  lies  bathed  in  light  high 
above  the  valley,  on  the  opposite  side  from  the  sun.  It  seems, 
sometimes,  as  if  the  Giant  must  be  about  to  stir  and  lift  his 

beautiful  head!      I   took  early  coffee  with  Mr.   T on 

Monday  morning,  before  he  started  down  to  Ponce,  and  sud- 


Dona  Clara.  Dona  Lola  and  Anita 


Dona  Clara's  House  in  Adjuntas 


Child    of    the    Sea  [41] 

denly  the  dining-room  of  the  little  inn  filled  with  strong  light, 
as  when  an  electric  hght  is  turned  on,  and  beyond  the  doorway 
we  saw  our  whole  valley  flooded  with  glory  all  in  a  minute,  by 
the  rising  sun. 

I  am  well  and  must  make  the  most  of  the  two  weeks  re- 
maining to  me  in  this  poor,  dear,  haunted-by-the-poor,  hos- 
pitable, needy  little  town.  Today,  I  found  Francisco's  little 
sister  with  a  badly  infected  sore  on  her  shin,  caused  by  ignorant 
treatment  of  a  wound  from  a  sharp  rock,  and  directed  them  to 
the  Porto  Rican  "  poor  doctor,"  lately  appointed.  Next,  in 
Canas,  I  visited  Concha,  a  woman  married  to  a  soldier.  She 
showed  me  her  marriage  lines,  and  they  seem  to  be  legal, 
though  she  says  people  tell  her  she  is  married  *'  only  for  a 
time."     Absurd!      The  man  expects  to  go  to  "the  States" 

soon,  with  Troop ordered  home,  and  he  is  planning  to 

leave  her  here,  and  encinia.  He  is  said  to  be  not  a  bad  fel- 
low, half  Mexican  and  half  Irish  (How  many  combinations 
of  nationalities  may  go  to  make  an  "American"  soldier!), 
and  he  promises  to  support  her.  "  We  have  been  married 
many  months  now,"  she  says,  "  and  I  cannot  say  he  has  treated 
me  any  way  but  well."  Rather  a  negative  goodness  with 
which  to  satisfy  a  wife.     Poor  little  Conchita! 

Don ,  in  the  next  house  in  the  long,  long  street  called 

Canas,  had  his  swollen  foot  in  a  chair.  It  was  badly  hurt  by 
a  kick  from  an  American  mule.  Never  until  the  United 
States  army  arrived  had  these  people  conceived  of  such  im- 
mense horses,  such  enormous  mules!  They  are  in  wholesome 
awe  of  the  huge  hoofs  which  have  caused  many  serious  acci- 
dents to  the  unwary.  The  small  Island  horses  are  patience 
and  docility  personified  in  horse-flesh,  and  submit  themselves 
only  too  meekly  to  the  lack  of  mercy  in  many  a  driver. 

Don  *s  wife  and  grown  daughters  sat  by  while  I  at 

first  explained,  at  their  suggestion,  why  the  name  Protestant  has 


[42] Child    of    the    Sea 

been  given  us,  naming  some  of  the  points  in  the  creed  of  Rome 
which  brought  about  the  early  protests.  Again  I  read  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  as  I  had  done  to  Concha,  and  as  the 

story  of  the  bad  son  went  on,  tears  filled  Doiia  E *$  eyes, 

and  presently  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  There  was  no  doubt 
in  her  mind  as  to  the  father's  forgiving  reception  of  the  repen- 
tant wanderer.  The  gray-haired  husband  listened,  with  bright 
eyes  gleaming  in  his  dark  face,  glad,  at  least,  of  the  distraction 
of  a  visit  from  la  americana,  and  perhaps  also  glad  to  be  re- 
minded that  there  is  room  for  repentance  in  every  man's  life, 
and  a  Father  to  receive  the  penitent.  So  the  dingy  shop  did 
not  seem  dingy  to  me,  though  a  fine  mist  was  falling  on  the 
stony  road  outside  and  the  day  was  very  dark  for  a  while.     I 

left  a  tract,  '*  The  Three  Crosses,"  with  Don  ,  who 

received  it  eagerly,  and  then  I  came  away  for  one  more  visit. 

Don  P 's  house  was  a  bit  farther  along.      It  was  here 

the  pretty  baby  died  a  fortnight  ago.      Both  he  and  his  wife 

wish  to  be  baptized.      Only  Doiia  H was  at  home,  with 

her  three  sick  children,  all  with  whooping-cough  and  fever. 
One  boy  has  dysentery  besides,  and  the  little  girl  is  much 
afflicted  with  sores  over  her  hot  little  body. 

As  simply  as  to  a  little  child,  I  told  H of  our  mode 

of  baptism.  **  To  be  wet  all  over  in  the  river  in  baptism — 
even  the  hair!  "  seemed  to  her  an  incredible  thing.  Very  care- 
fully I  explained  the  mode  of  baptism  of  John  and  of  Christ's 
apostles,  and  the  idea  presently  touched  her  imagination,  as 
I  described  the  afternoons  by  the  Portugues  river  in  Ponce. 
But  the  change  of  heart — of  the  will — to  precede  the  act  of 
obedience  was  a  more  subtle  matter  for  her  understanding.     I 

marked  verses  in  P 's  Testament  for  them  to  read  together 

at  prayer  times. 

Though  there  is  certainly  "  much  water  "  here  in  Adjuntas, 
few  men  and  women  can  as  yet  be  considered  ready  for  bap- 


Child   of   the   Sea [43]^ 

tism  and  church-membership.  .  .  It  was  twelve  o'clock  when  I 
crossed  the  flowery  plaza  on  my  way  home.  Every  hibiscus 
bell  was  drooping  with  its  burden  of  rain-drops.  One  does 
not  know  how  beautiful  mere  rain  can  be  until  it  is  seen  misting 
down  as  a  silvery  veil  over  the  hills,  and  watering  every  little 
thirsting  root  and  leaf  and  bud!  But  it  is  curious  with  what 
icy  coldness  the  gentlest  rain  falls  upon  the  hands  or  face  here. 
The  evaporation  is  powerful  in  this  heat  and  the  country  folks 
say  that  the  llovisna,  or  drizzle,  is  more  dangerous  for  a  wetting 
than  the  downpour  of  an  aguacero,  or  heavy  shower!  I  sup- 
pose this  is  really  due  to  the  fact  that  one  is  more  apt  to  change 
wet  than  merely  damp  clothing  for  dry  things. 

After  the  heavy  shower  passed,  this  afternoon,  I  went  to  the 
thatched  hut  where  our  sexton  lives,  in  the  corral  back  of  the 
mission.  Juana,  his  wife,  and  the  week-old  baby  were  quietly 
resting  in  the  small  back  room.  .  .  The  tiny  baby  has  been 
named  Julita,  and  is  a  plump,  pretty  little  thing.  In  Gabriel 
she  will  have  a  good  brother,  bless  his  pretty  brown  eyes! 
Already  he  begs  Julita  to  hurry  and  grow,  so  that  she  may 
go  to  "  Doiia  Juanita's  "  Bible  class  with  him.  Another  visit 
was  to  the  family  of  a  widow,  whose  name  ranks  with  "  the 
best  "  in  this  little  town.  Merely  social  calls  here,  during 
which  serious  subjects  may  be  more  or  less  tabu,  are  usually 
rather  a  bore.  Everyw^here,  however,  there  is  an  eagerness  to 
hear  about  the  United  States,  and  even  if  they  are  not  directly 
interested  in  religion,  all  are  ready  to  listen  politely  to  what 
the  missionary  may  find  it  expedient  to  say  about  the  study  of 
God's  Word,  and  the  blessings  attending  it  everywhere  in  the 

world.      The  Senorita  M is  studying  English,  and  spoke 

it  a  little,  to  the  great  admiration  of  her  old,  dark-faced, 
wrinkled  mother.  If  not  to  my  clear  understanding.  They  own 
the  cottage  in  which  they  live.  The  ubiquitous  crocheted  tidy 
covered  every  chair,  back  and  arm,  and  even  the  center-table. 


[44] Child    of    the    Sea 

and  these  particular  tidies  were  of  a  dull  purple  color,  which 
with  the  black  of  the  "  Austrian  "  furniture  gave  the  little  sala 

the  look  of  being  in  second  mourning!      M says  that  her 

father  used  to  speak  of  the  Giant's  profile,  lifted  high  along 
the  sky.  Besides  him,  I  have  heard  of  no  one  here,  who  has 
ever  seemed  to  notice  the  wonderful  outline  of  the  mountain 
ridge.  Said  Dofia  Adela  to  me  one  night,  on  our  porch : 
"  Think  of  it!  You  have  come  all  this  way  to  show  us  what 
has  been  before  our  eyes,  always!  "  The  Giant  lies  very  still, 
not  dead,  but  sleeping,  stretched  for  many  leagues  high  above 
Adjuntas,  from  massive  head  and  arms  folded  upon  his  breast, 
to  toes  upturned  to  the  changing  sky  in  the  west.  I  know  he 
only  sleeps,  because  the  expression  of  his  face  changes  as  if  he 
dreamed.  Shade,  sunlight,  and  cloud  have  a  strange  effect 
in  altering  the  aspect  of  the  perfect  profile  of  the  face.  But 
after  all  I  believe  the  hoary  old  Sleepyhead  is  more  alive  to 
me  than  to  any  one  else! 

I  am  not  able  to  make  so  many  visits  every  day  as  today. 
Sometimes  heavy  showers  keep  one  in  all  day,  now  that  the 
rainy  season  is  advancing  in  the  mountains,  ahead  of  coast 
time  for  it.  Sometimes,  one  visit  occupies  the  whole  morning 
or  afternoon,  or  even  all  day  if  the  house  is  off  in  the  country. 
Sometimes  visitors  detain  one  at  home.  On  other  days,  there 
are  classes,  mission  letters  must  be  \vritten,  business  attended  to. 
Thus,  it  seems  to  me  that  little  value  can  be  attached  to  numeri- 
cal statistics  given  in  reports  to  Boards,  as  to  a  missionary's 
daily  work.  No  one  day  can  be  like  another,  and  figures  can- 
not estimate  with  justice  the  worth  of  service,  or  of  the  distribu- 
tion of  tracts,  many  or  few. 

February  15,  1900. 

At  bedtime  last  night,  I  stood  outside  my  window-door  on 
the  porch,   watching   the   curious   cloud   effects   at   moonrise. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [45] 

Long  shreds  of  silvered  vapor  streamed  and  waved  in  the  wind 
across  the  black  mountains.  The  Giant  lay  tucked  snugly 
under  a  blanket  of  billowy  vapor  at  one  instant;  the  next,  the 
wind  uncovering  him,  he  lay  stark  and  black  against  the  clear 
night  sky;  then  again,  the  swiftly  rolling  mists  hid  him  utterly 
from  view.  The  plaza  at  my  feet  was  full  of  perfume  from 
Cape  jessamines,  roses,  lilies,  and  the  delicate  lilac  bloom  of 
the  lila  tree  with  its  peculiarly  delicious  fragrance.  Adjuntas 
was  very  still,  under  the  shifting  panorama  of  cloud,  and  the 
long,  deep  breaths  of  the  mild,  sweet  wind.  I  came  inside, 
barred  my  shutters,  and  went  to  sleep. 

Conchita,  wife  of  the  "  American  "  soldier,  bought  a  Bible 
today. 

February  1 6,  1 900. 

Sunshine  on  the  hills,  this  morning. 

A  woman  has  just  left  who  wants  to  give  me  one  of  her 
little  girls.  Many  offer  me  children,  and  one  cannot  wonder, 
when  they  are  so  plentiful,  and  food  and  clothing  so  scarce. 
Yesterday,  I  asked  a  proud  little  mother — jestingly — if  she 
would  not  give  me  the  lovely  infant  in  her  arms.  Such  a  look 
as  I  received  of  mingled  doubt  as  to  my  intentions,  and  of 
outraged  mother-love  and  refusal,  as  the  woman  clasped  the 
baby  to  her  bosom!  "Oil  cannot  see  how  a  mother  could 
part  with  the  very  youngest  of  all!  "  she  said. 

ITiis  afternoon  forty  children  were  in  the  class.  In  the 
plaza  for  half  an  hour  before  supper,  playing  with  little  ones 

who  decked  me  with  flowers,  Ramoncito  M among  the 

children,  a  splendid  great  boy  with  magnificent,  flashing  dark 
eyes.  Tonight  the  little  plaza  is  again  like  an  enchanted  gar- 
den in  the  moonlight.  All  the  beggars  have  hidden  themselves 
somewhere  out  of  sight,  and  little  Filiberto  has  gone  home  at 
last,  with,  I  hope,  his  pocket  full  of  centavos.  At  least  his 
weak  quavering  cry  of 


[46] Child    of    the    Sea 

Peanuts,  peanuts,  hot  and  roasted. 
Neither  raw  nor  overtoasted, 

no  longer  sounds  past  my  door.  And  the  moimtains  are  like 
a  dream  of  beauty  in  the  Hght  and  great  silence. 

A  happy  morning  spent  in  talking  with  an  old  man,  who  is 
a  "  candidate "  for  baptism,  and  with  others.  Later,  I 
climbed  the  Veji'a,  and  on  the  way  scolded  the  careless  people 
who  had  not  gone  for  the  doctor  after  I  had  sent  him  a  note 
explaining  the  need.     Bound  up  little  Adelina's  foot,  which 

is  almost  well.      F de  J replied,  **  jComo  no?" 

"  Of  course,"  to  everything  I  said,  in  a  way  most  paralyzing. 

February  19.  1900. 

As  I  came  from  breakfast,  yesterday,  a  poor  woman  headed 
me  off  among  the  plaza  paths  with  a  sick  baby  in  her  arms.  I 
thought  she  wanted  to  give  the  poor  wee  one  to  me,  but  no! 
what  she  wished  was  that  I  should  '*  cristianize,"  baptize  it. 
Instead,  I  gave  her  sugar  and  bread  and  a  cup  of  hot  coffee, 
with  a  little  good  advice.  .  .  To  the  public  school  this  morning 

to  see  about  entering  Maria  G ,  whose  little  skirts  and 

frock  I  have  made  ready  for  the  great  day  of  entering  school. 
The  schoolrooms  have  fine  charts  of  large  letters  and  syllables 
and  short  English  words.  "  Uncle  Sam  "  is  determined  that 
his  little  Islanders  shall  learn  his  language  from  the  first  grade 
up.  It  is  a  constant  marvel  to  me  to  see  what  good  public 
schools  are  already  in  action,  in  even  rural  districts. 

•  •••••• 

"  Why  did  you  not  come  to  us  long  ago?  "  Dofia  Lola 
asks,  as  we  talk  of  the  stars  and  of  other  wonderful  works  of 
God  for  the  children  of  men.  What  missionary  has  not  heard 
that  cry! 


Off  to  the  Giant's  Head 


Sleeping  Giant  and  Adjuntas 


Child    of    the    Sea [47] 

Again  I  have  been  to  see  the  family  of  the  espiridsta,  Don 

J ,  to  talk  with  the  little  wife  about  her  expressed  desire  to 

be  baptized.  (She  is  in  no  sense  prepared  for  it,  so  far  as  an  un- 
derstanding of  what  more  is  meant  than  the  actual  rite  in  the  lit- 
tle river,  which  she  says  "must  be  beautiful.")  The  husband, 
standing  by  the  counter  of  their  small  shop,  called  out  as  we  two 
chatted  together,  that  they  did  not  agree  with  me  on  that  subject, 
and  would  not  be  baptized.  Afterward,  calmed  down  and  seated 
in  his  rocking-chair,  he  explained  his  idea  of  the  spiritual  signifi- 
cance of  the  ordinance — that  it  may  be  done  away  with  now — 
and  forthwith  he  flew  off  on  one  of  his  tangents  eccentric,  and 
I  ceased  to  listen.  The  sleeping  Giant's  noble  head,  showing 
peacefully  against  the  blue  sky,  was  in  full  view  from  the  door- 
way of  the  little  wayside  shop,  and  as  I  looked  up  I  longed  to 
show  poor  Don  J something  of  a  peace  which  no  argu- 
ment can  give  or  take  away.  Spiritism  permeates  Adjuntas, 
the  whole  Island  in  fact,  and  is  more  unreasonable  than  any 
degree  of  Romanism  that  I  have  encountered.  It  seems  to 
have  "  appeared  "  in  the  Island  when  there  was  felt  a  need  of 
something  more  than  the  established  Church  was  giving  some 
of  the  people — No!  the  need  of  something  better  has  always 
existed  in  some  seeking  souls,  whether  there  have  come  means 
to  satisfy  it  or  not.  And  spiritism  cannot  satisfy.  Oh  that 
the  gospel  in  its  pure  truth  had  ertered  first! 

February  21,  1900. 

When  just  about  to  start  up  the  river  road  this  afternoon  I 
saw  a  little  group  of  men  coming  slowly  into  town  from  the 
workings  of  the  new  highway  just  beyond  us.  They  brought 
on  a  litter  the  body  of  a  man  just  killed  at  his  work  there.  I 
saw  the  poor  black  head  as  the  litter  passed  me  on  the  shoulders 
of  two  men,  but  the  face  and  body  were  covered  with  a, 


[48] Child    of    the    Sea 

blanket.  They  were  taking  him  straight  to  the  cemetery,  they 
said.  On  my  way  later,  I  talked  with  a  workman  who  had 
been  close  to  the  other  when  the  rock  crashed  down  from  the 
bank  above,  and  pinned  the  man's  body  over  upon  his  sharp 
pick,  driving  the  tool  quite  through  his  body.  The  long 
machete  carried  in  his  belt  also  cut  him  horribly,  and  his  death 
was  instantaneous,  it  seems.  His  little  son  had  brought  him  his 
dinner  from  home,  and  stopped  to  watch  his  father  begin  work 
again  after  eating — only  to  see  the  whole  dreadful  thing. 

It  is  a  stupendous  effort,  completing  the  road  over  these 
mountains,  begun  from  the  Ponce  end  by  the  Spaniards  and 
left  unfinished.  When  it  is  completed  Arecibo  on  the  north 
coast  will  be  in  direct  communication  by  the  splendid  highway 
with  Ponce  in  the  south.  Many  laborers  have  been  desper- 
ately injured  in  the  past  months  since  our  Government  took  up 
the  unfinished  work  in  order,  especially,  to  give  emplo)anent  to 
the  poor  in  the  towns  and  country.  Some  have  lost  their  lives 
as  did  the  man  a  while  ago;  often  it  is  through  the  personal 
carelessness,  which  inertia  and  ignorance  and  lack  of  skill  breed 
in  an  undeveloped  people.  But  there  is  also  real  danger  for 
even  the  skilled  and  wide-awake  workman,  on  these  mountain 
precipices. 

I  watched  the  men  prepare  a  blast  today  and  then  saw  the 
explosion  from  a  safe  distance.  Yesterday,  a  workman  was 
badly  burned  by  a  premature  explosion  of  blasting  powder. 

And  now,  a  woman  has  come  begging  me  for  a  papelito,  a 
little  note,  for  the  military  doctor  stationed  here,  asking  him  to 
go  to  see  her  son  injured  on  the  road,  last  week.  He  has  be- 
gun spitting  blood,  she  says.  They  think  there  is  a  certain 
charm  connected  with  an  American's  papeUto,  as  intermediary, 
and  perhaps  there  is,  sometimes,  in  these  early  stages  of  Ameri- 
can influence.      Dr.   McC is  imtiring  in  his  ministrations 

among  the  poor  up  here  in  these  mountains,   even  without 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

papeUtos,  but  he  is  not  yet  entirely  conversant  with  Spanish,  so 
the  "  httle  papers  "  help. 

February  25.  1900. 

Mr.  R.  has  come  up  for  the  fortnightly  preaching-service. 
No  one  seems  really  prepared  for  baptism  and  its  sequence  of 
church-membership,  and  it  seems  best  to  have  all  the  aspirants 
wait  a  while  for  fuller  understanding  of  the  Christian  life.  I 
hope  to  return  before  summer  for  a  longer  stay,  for  my  heart 
aches  over  the  many  in  the  out-of-the-way  places  who  are  hear- 
ing God's  word  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives.  Off  here  in 
the  mountains,  there  is  a  seriousness  and  a  sadness  not  so  notice- 
able in  the  coast  towns — a  desolation  of  spirit,  a  desiccation 
rather,  which  one  longs  to  replace  with  life  and  growth  and  joy. 

Tomorrow,  I  must  return  to  Ponce. 


[50]  Child    of    the    Sea 


V 

To  linger  by  the  laborer's  side; 
With  words  of  sympathy  or  song 
To  cheer   the  dreary   march  along 
Of  the  great  army  of  the  poor. 

Nor  lo  thyself  the  task  shall  be 
Without  reward;    for  thou  shalt  learn 
The  wisdom  early  to  discern 
•  True  beauty  in  utility. 

— LongfelloTV. 

Ponce,  P.  R.. 
March  9,   1910. 

CAPTAIN  ANDRUS  and  the  Fifth  Cavalry  Troop  I 
are  to  be  transferred  from  Ponce  to  Adjuntas  at  once, 
to  take  the  place  of  the  other  troop  returning  to  the 
United  States.      Both  the  captain  and  his  wife  are  earnest 
Christians,   of  the   Episcopal   Church,   and  their  presence  in 
Adjuntas  will  be  a  boon  to  the  townspeople. 

Yauco.  p.  R., 
March   14,   1900. 

Another  beginning  of  things!  Today,  we  came  by  the 
short  **  French  railway  "  to  this  substantial  little  city  among 
the  cane-plantations,  an  hour  and  a  half  west  from  Ponce. 
Southward  from  the  town,  the  level,  pale-green  cane-fields 
extend  almost  to  the  sea.  But,  northward,  the  hills  rise 
abruptly  from  the  street  ends,  and  a  section  of  the  ridge  above 
the  town  is  covered  with  little  houses  set  as  close  together  as 
houses  may  be.     This  shack-covered  hillside  is  the  first  view 


Child    of    the    Sea [SU 

one  has  of  Yauco  as  the  little  train  rattles  in  among  the  cane- 
fields.  Yauco  used  to  be  one  of  the  wealthiest  towns  of  the 
Island,  with  planters'  homes  furnished  with  the  luxuries  of 
Spain,  of  Corsica  and  France,  and  with  warehouses  bulging 
with  coffee  and  sugar  and  molasses  adjoining  the  family  dwell- 
ings. Everybody  is  said  to  be  "  poor  "  in  Porto  Rico  now, 
yet  one  finds  cheer  and  patience  everywhere.  But  even  now, 
there  is  here  in  Yauco  nothing  like  the  abject  want  of  the 
mountain  districts,  and  I  have  not  seen  so  cheerful  a  place  since 
coming  to  the  Island.  Of  course,  we  have  come  to  see  about 
beginning  mission  work  here,  where  nothing  has  as  yet  been 
done,  beyond  a  previous  visit  of  discovery  by  the  missionary  in 
charge  of  these  parts. 

We  have  small  rooms  in  the  hotel  "  American  Victory,"  for 
the  night  or  two  of  our  stay.  The  little  Rudds  were  immensely 
happy  over  the  ride  on  the  train,  as  their  parents  brought  them 
along,  too,  for  the  change  of  air. 

March  15,   1900. 

We  drove  to  Guanica  this  morning,  but  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  from  Yauco,  along  a  rough  country  road.  Guanica  Bay 
reaches  a  long  arm  inland  from  the  Caribbean.  The  ugly  little 
town  squats  on  the  sandy  shore  and  extends  back  by  one  long 
dismal  street  to  the  road  by  which  we  had  come.  But  it  was 
here  that  General  Miles  landed  the  first  American  troops,  al- 
most two  years  ago  now,  so  if  an  unlovely  town,  it  is  at  least 
historic. 

Back  to  Yauco  again,  in  the  afternoon.  It  is  usually  a  mis- 
sionary's plan  on  a  pioneer  trip  to  hold  an  informal  first  service 
in  a  private  home  or  public  hall  which  may  be  offered  by  some 
friendly  person.  But,  no  preparation  having  been  made  here 
as  yet,  we  sallied  in  different  directions  after  lunch  to  see  what 
the  town  was  like  and  what  of  promise  there  might  be  for  hold- 


[52] Child    of    the    Sea 

ing  an  informal  service  somewhere  and  somehow  this  very  night. 
After  walking  through  many  streets  and  being  stared  at,  with 
not  quite  the  benignity  of  the  dear  mountaineers,  I  found  a 
woman  standing  in  the  door  of  her  httle  shop  who  smilingly 
greeted  me  as  I  was  passing.  I  stopped  to  return  her  greeting 
and  presently  told  her  of  the  misionero's  desire  to  talk  that  very 
evening,  with  any  who  might  like  to  listen,  of  God  and  the 
Bible.  Would  she,  perhaps,  like  to  have  us  come  to  her  house 
for  this,  and  would  she  invite  a  friend  or  two  to  join  her?  It 
was  a  poor  place  enough,  with  nothing  visible  inside  except 
empty  shelves  and  a  few  small  bananas  for  sale  on  a  counter. 
But  there  was  room  for  a  few  chairs,  and  the  door  where  we 
stood  opened  directly  upon  the  sidewalk.  Almost  to  my  sur- 
prise, she  agreed  to  the  proposal,  and  we  chatted  a  while, 
before  I  returned  to  the  hotel.     As  nothing  more  propitious 

had  offered  itself,  it  was  decided  to  go  to  Doiia  M 's  shop, 

after  six-o'clock  dinner. 

I  have  come  very  near  to  first  things  in  Ponce  and  in 
Adjuntas,  but  never  quite  so  near  as  here  tonight!  There  Was 
a  real  thrill  at  first  in  sitting  in  the  dim  little  shop,  with 
Mrs.  R.  to  sing,  and  Mr.  R.  to  read  the  Bible  and  Doiia 

M to  listen.     For  the  woman,  a  shy  child  or  two  and  I 

myself  formed  the  congregation  inside.  Outside,  the  sidewalk 
was  soon  thronged  with  a  noisy,  jostling  crowd  which  stretched 
out  in  the  darkness  half-way  across  the  street,  passers-by 
stopping  to  see  and  hear  what  the  americanos  were  about.  It 
was  a  rather  nerve-racking  hour,  it  must  be  confessed,  but,  at 
last,  we  shook  hands  with  our  hostess  and  came  away.  Of 
course  there  had  been  a  brief  explanation  to  the  crowd  of 
what  it  rvas  all  about  and,  after  the  first,  there  was  some  atten- 
tion paid  by  those  nearest  the  shop  door.  So  a  beginning  of 
the  work  has  now  been  made  in  prosperous,  conservative  little 
Yauco ! 


Child    of    the    Sea  [53] 


March  16,  1900. 

There  are  famine  sufferers  even  here.  This  afternoon  in 
my  stroll  about  town,  I  found  a  homeless,  starving,  sick  boy 
gasping  in  the  deep,  cobwebby  doorway  of  a  closed  warehouse. 
I  got  milk  and  bread  and  fed  him  a  little,  and  then  hurried 
to  the  small  hospital  on  the  town's  edge.  Fortunately,  I  was 
met  at  the  door  by  a  sweet-faced  "  Sister  "  whom  I  had  known 
in  the  big  city  hospital  in  Ponce,  and  she  welcomed  and  intro- 
duced me  to  another,  as  una  amiga,  a  friend.  (She  is  the  one 
who,  on  learning  that  I  was  a  Protestant,  had  clasped  her 
hands  in  despair  and  cried,  "  O  what  a  pity  that  such  a  sweet 
lady  must  go  to  the  infierno,  because  of  being  outside  of  the 
Holy  Church!  ")  They  agreed  to  admit  the  boy,  although 
they  were  crowded  to  the  limit  already,  if  I  would  get  a  police- 
man to  see  him  and  secure  a  signed  application  from  the  mayor. 
Back  to  town  I  went  and  found  as  by  a  miracle  a  policeman 
who  complaisantly  promised  to  attend  to  the  whole  matter.  A 
little  later,  as  I  sat  on  the  high  upper  balcony  of  the  hotel,  he 
passed  in  the  street  below  with  two  men  carrying  a  closed  litter. 
"  I've  got  the  boy,"  he  called,  looking  up  to  the  balcony,  *'  he 
had  fallen  down  in  the  street!  "  So  they  carried  the  poor 
child  to  the  perfectly  inadequate  little  hospital,  but  a  cot  under 
a  roof  will  be  better  than  the  street. 

Tonight,  Mr.  R.  held  a  fine  service  in  the  dining-room  of 
this  hotel  by  arrangement  with  the  proprietor,  and  there  has 
been  time  today  for  inviting  people  of  a  different  class  to  the 
culto.  There  were  lights  and  plenty  of  seats,  and  doubtless 
some  curiosity  was  plentifully  satisfied  in  the  breasts  of  those 
who  came  to  hear  '*  some  new  thing."  The  balustrades  of  the 
windows  were  lined  with  men  and  women  standing  outside  on 
the  sidewalk  and  a  few  United  States  soldiers  sat  inside  along 
with  the  elite  of  the  town.     It  is  well  to  have  touched  the  peo- 


[54] Child    of    the    Sea 

pie  at  two  distinct  points  of  contact,  yet  we  who  are  always 
learning  something  more  of  the  gospel's  way  with  hearts,  can 
already  divine  which  class  of  Yauco's  townsmen  will  more 
readily  respond  to  its  call. 

We  return  to  Ponce  by  a  very  early  tram,  tomorrow. 

Ponce,  P.  R.,  April  15.  1900. 

A  young  American  school-teacher  died  yesterday  of  per- 
nicious fever.  Infinitely  pathetic  are  desperate  illness  and  soli- 
tary death  in  a  foreign  land,  although  acquaintances  of  a  brief 
time  may  give  their  best  help.  A  transport  ship  will  take  her 
dead  body  back  to  New  York  and  her  parents,  as  it  brought 
her  away  alive  and  merry,  in  January. 

'Tis  little,  but  it  looks  in  truth 
As  if  the  quiet  bones  were  blest 
Among  familiar  names  to  rest 

And  in  the  places  of  his  [her]  youth. 


I  am  a  mighty  poor  politician,  and  find  it  hard  to  know  just 
how  this  Island  does  stand  politically  with  relation  to  the 
United  States,  her  new  mother  in  the  north,  but  I  know  that 
little  Porto  Rico  has  been  the  bandy-ball  of  political  parties  in 
Washington  for  many  months,  and  that  the  people  at  large 
have  been  indignant  that  Congress  failed,  for  so  long  a  time, 
to  do  "  the  right  thing  "  by  us.  /  do  not  have  the  clue  to  the 
labyrinth,  but  know  that  much  of  the  strain  has  been  relieved, 
both  here  and  there,  since  the  news  was  published  that  the  tariff 
bill  had  passed  both  Houses,  and  that  Porto  Rico  is  to  have 
the  fifteen  per  cent  of  the  Dingley  tariff.  The  law  is  to  go  into 
effect  on  May  1.  Also,  on  that  date,  the  Hon.  Chas.  H. 
Allen,  the  new  and  first  civil  governor,  is  to  be  inaugurated  in 


Child    of    the    Sea  [55] 

San  Juan,   whereupon  the  military  governorship  of  General 
Davis  will  end.-^ 

May  4.  1900. 

Sarah  Romney,  who  was  so  ill  in  the  hospital,  Asilo  de 
Damas,  has  just  come  to  bring  me  three  little  sour  oranges,  of 
which  I  am  supposed  to  make  a  tea,  to  cure  my  cold!  La 
grippe  is  epidemic  among  our  people. 

The  cattle  on  the  brown  hills  sniff  at  the  parched  ground 
and  find  nothing  to  eat.  Milk  has  risen  in  price  just  when  the 
sick  poor  need  it  most,  and  the  farmers  cannot  plant  in  the  sun- 
baked soil — and  many  of  them  have  no  money  for  seed.  But 
showers,  now  and  then,  give  hope  of  the  rainy  season  already 
overdue. 

The  Moorish  kiosko  in  the  plaza  is  still  full  of  homeless  ones 
lying  on  the  floor,  night  and  day,  sleeping  or  ill.  The  "  wolf  " 
has  driven  them  in  from  the  countrysides,  and  there  is  nowhere 
here  to  keep  them,  as  the  hospitals  are  all  full.  Few  of  these 
forlorn  ones  have  learned  to  beg,  as  yet,  and  they  sit  around, 
hopeless  and  torpid.  When  Porto  Rican  women  ask  me  about 
my  family,  and  hear  that  I  have  none  of  my  very  own,  they 
usually  say:  "What  a  good  thing!      What  peace!  " 

Very  soon  United  States  currency  will  replace  Spanish 
money  in  the  Island,  saving  us  daily  and  vexing  calculations. 
The  Spanish  peso,  or  silver  dollar,  is  to  be  considered  as  worth 
sixty  cents  "  gold."  If  only  there  might  be  some  system  of 
loans  inaugurated  for  the  planters  on  their  coffee  estates  ruined 

'After  the  official  retirement  of  Spain  from  the  Island,  on  October  18, 
1898,  "  Major  General  J.  R.  Brooke,  United  States  Army,  was  at  once 
appointed  military  governor.  He  was  succeeded  two  months  later  by 
Major  General  Guy  V.  Henry.  General  George  W.  Davis  took  General 
Henry's  place  the  following  May." — J.  B.  Seabury,  in  his  School  History 
of  Porto  Rico.  1903. 
E 


^56] Child    of   the   Sea 

by  the  hurricane,  to  set  them  upon  their  feet  again  with  the 
purchase  of  tools  and  the  hiring  of  labor  for  clearing  the 
plantations,  there  would  be  real  financial  hope  ahead,  and  more 
cheer  for  the  little  Island. 

Ad  JUNTAS,  p.  R.. 
May  12.  1900. 

We  found  El  Saltillo,  on  the  outskirts  of  Adjuntas,  alive 
with  the  road  builders,  as  we  drove  up  the  moimtain.  When 
all  is  finished — boulders  ground  to  powder,  moimtainsides 
carved  away,  gorges  crossed  by  strong  bridges,  beds  of  moun- 
tain streams  altered,  precipices  buttressed  with  masonry,  etc., 
this  carretera  will  be  a  mighty  work  accomplished,  uniting  the 
north  coast  directly  with  the  south  by  a  splendid  road,  barely 
half  as  long  as  the  fine  old  diagonal  highway  between  Ponce 
and  San  Juan — "  a  highway  for  our  God  "? 

The  faded  blue  roses  are  still  climbing  the  sickly  yellow 
walls  of  my  room  at  Dona  Clara's,  an  old  lace  curtain  drapes 
the  iron  canopy  above  the  narrow  bedstead  to  keep  the  dust 
from  sifting  do\\Ti  upon  my  pillow,  flowers  brought  by  the 
children  as  soon  as  I  was  well  out  of  the  carriage,  adorn  the 
little  table,  already  heaped  with  my  books  and  writing  things, 
and  I  hope  that  strong  essence  of  pennyroyal  will  drive  away 
ants,  fleas,  spiders  perhaps,  and  mosquitoes  from  my  pillow. 
All  is  as  spick  and  span  as  ever  in  the  bit  of  a  room,  and  a 
warm  welcome  made  me  feel  as  if  I  were  come  back  home. 

All  the  world  here  is  sick.  God  help  me  to  give  his  message 
to  the  people  before  they  die!  Yet,  I  wish  to  be  calm  and 
reasonable  in  order  to  cope  with  the  bitter  misery  on  all  sides, 
else  I  myself  shall  flag,  imder  the  sense  of  their  apathy  and 
want.  Often  I  do  not  know  what  to  sa\)  when  there  is  nothing 
to  do.  Livingstone  once  wrote,  **  Food  for  the  mind  has  but 
little  savor  for  starving  stomachs."    Little  Anita,  Dona  Clara's 


Child    of    the    Sea  [57] 

grandniece,  is  dying  in  the  house,  by  the  slow  degrees  anemia 
poisoning  takes.      Her  complexion  changes  from  ghastly  white 

to  green.      Doctor  McC ,  the  army  surgeon  stationed  here, 

had  me  listen  to  her  heart-beats  this  morning,  and  on  laying 
my  ear  against  her  breast,  I  heard  a  whirring  and  rushing  inside 
like  that  of  a  machine  fan,  while  I  could  detect  no  countable 
beatings  of  her  heart.  That  organ  must  overwork  in  order  to 
supply  the  scanty  red  blood  to  the  tissues  demanding  it.  I 
have    bought     the     digitalis     and     other    medicines     Doctor 

McC prescribes,  but  only  with  the  hope  of  making  her 

days  easier.  Her  father  also  is  in  this  house — all  the  family 
being  hurricane  refugees  from  the  hills — and  he  is  in  the  last 
stages  of  anemia,  with  tuberculosis  of  the  lungs  also,  I  think. 

A  pouring  rain  falls,  and  my  old  friend,  the  Sleeping  Giant, 
lies  grim  and  still  against  the  sad-colored  sky,  a  gossamer  veil 
of  rain  swathing  his  highness.  Big  banana  leaves  make  pretty 
good  umbrellas  for  some  of  the  passing  folk,  and  others  wear 
coffee-sacks  as  cowl  and  cape  over  their  heads  and  shoulders. 
One  does  not  see  real  umbrellas  very  often.  And  the  down- 
pour has  driven  off  of  the  streets  the  scores  of  helpless,  homeless 
creatures,  straying  about  the  town — driven  them  whither? 

Sunday,  May  13,  1900. 

A   lovely   day   of   summer.      Mr.    R.    baptized   five   men 

today,  in  a  little  pool  under  the  river-bank,  P among 

them  and  dear  old  B.  from  over  the  Giant's  head.  Of 
these  five  the  church  was  "  organized  "  tonight,  in  the  old 
warehouse  hall.  Afterward  there  was  a  marriage.  At  last 
we  have  a  nucleus  about  which  to  build  in  this  mountain  dis- 
trict. Some  of  the  women  are  very  promising  in  intelligent 
experience,  but  few  of  these  can  read,  and  it  is  wiser  for  them 
to  wait. 


[58]     Child    of    the    Sea 

I  am  glad  we  have  missionaries  who  are  more  intent  on  see- 
ing men  and  women  intelligently  and  heartily  beginning  the 
CRristian  life,  than  on  counting  mere  baptisms  and  churches 
for  reports  to  a  Mission  Board  and  the  pubHc.  Mr.  R.'s 
words,  addressed  to  the  church  of  five,  tonight,  were  spoken  as 
to  little  children,  but  were  of  no  weak  stuff. 

During  the  past  week  I  have  tried  to  find  out  the  truth  of 
some  of  the  tales  the  destitute  tell  me,  and  to  help,  not  with 
money  many  ask  for,  but  with  medicine  provided  by  Doctor 

McC ,  and  with  milk  and  other  food.      Mrs.  Andrus,  the 

good  captain's  wife,  is  a  neighbor,  as  they  are  quartered  in  a 
large  frame  house  near  Doiia  Clara's.  Both  the  captain  and 
his  wife  are  strong  arms  of  support,  as  they  have  true  hearts 
of  sympathy  for  this  suffering  people.  Mrs.  A.  has  helped 
me  to  provide  a  mattress — stuffed  with  clean  excelsior — for  a 
poor,  sick  stranger  who,  drifting  dov^oi  a  mountain  trail,  has 
been  taken  in  by  a  woman  on  the  hillside  road  above  town.  I 
found  her  lying  on  the  bare  palm-strips  forming  the  slatted  floor 
of  the  shack,  with  nothing  between  her  scantily  clothed  body 
and  the  open  floor.  My  brother  would  hardly  think  the  shack 
fit  for  housing  his  Rhode  Island  Reds!  Certainly  not  for  his 
cow!  Yet,  True-hearted  Hospitality  shares  his  scanty  food 
and  room  with  the  dying  woman.  "  She  could  not  get  any 
farther  down  the  trail,  so,  of  course,  we  took  her  in!  "  Of 
course  they  did — I  know  no  one  here  who  would  not  have 
done  it!  I  have  sent  medicine  and  sugar  and  rice.  It  is  per- 
haps better  to  do  for  a  few,  really,  and  so  help  some  to  get 
well,  than  to  deal  out  centavos  at  every  turn.  It  would  cer- 
tainly be  easier,  on  begging-days — Saturdays — to  provide  a 
boxful  of  crackers  on  the  porch,  as  storekeepers  do  on  their 
counters,  for  any  beggar  to  help  himself  to  a  couple  from  it,  or 
to  change  a  peso  into  centavos  and  give  one  each  to  a  hundred 
beggars,  as  Dona  Clara  says  her  husband  used  to  do. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [59] 


May  19,  1900. 

The  sick  woman  on  Las  Vegas  trail  cannot  live  long,  but 
how  she  does  enjoy  her  soft  (?)  bed  on  the  slatted  floor,  and 
other  small  comforts!  She  is  learning  to  say  the  chorus  of 
"  Pass  me  not,  O  gentle  Saviour,"  for  she  has  no  breath  for 
singing.  As  the  chorus  in  Spanish  is  a  prayer  and  very  short 
and  simple,  and  as  she  is  very  weak,  it  contains  *'  the  gospel  " 
I  am  trying  to  teach  her.  Her  memory  falters,  but  her  passing 
soul  looks  gravely  and  understandingly  from  her  simken  dark 
eyes  into  mine,  as  she  says  after  me, 

Cristo,  Crislo, 
Ope  lu  mi  voz, 
Salvador,  lu  gracia  dame. 
Ope  iTii   clamor. 

The  children  are  being  rounded  up  for  beginning  again  our 
classes  together.  Dear  youngsters,  always  coming  with  their 
little  hot,  short-stemmed  offerings  of  flowers!  I  must  insist 
upon  the  use  of  scissors  if  the  town  fathers  do  not,  else  the 
plaza  garden  will  soon  be  a  wreck. 

Our  aged  brother  B.,  one  week  after  baptism,  is  to  lead 
a  short  service  tomorrow  morning,  following  the  children's 
Sunday  School.  Until  now,  I  have  had  only  the  children's 
school  on  the  Sundays  when  there  has  been  no  preacher  up 
from  Ponce,  but  it  seems  well  to  us  to  have  these  elderly 
"  babes "  begin  to  take  hold  now,  helping  with  the  work 
among  their  own  people.  It  will  be  hard  for  any  of  the  five, 
at  first,  as  they  have  not  yet  even  prayed  in  public,  and  I  rather 
dread  tomorrow. 

Mrs.  Andrus  has  just  brought  a  woman  to  me  who  has 
become  a  chronic  case  of  begging,  asking  me  to  interpret  for 
her  and  rid  her  of  the  nuisance.      The  ladies  of  the  engineers' 


[60] Child    of    the    Sea 

family  say  they  cannot  bear  the  strain  of  this  poverty-stricken 
town  much  longer,  and  one  of  them  has  become  ill  over  it. 
They  do  what  they  can  to  help,  as  do  all  the  Adjuntas  families. 
We  are  hoping  that  Government  rations  will  once  again  be  dis- 
tributed, as  soon  as  a  transport  food-ship  arrives.  Now,  comes 
Mrs.  Andrus'  cook  with  a  bowl  of  chicken  broth  for  Anita. 


Sunday,  May  20,  1900. 

I  think  the  Lord  tnust  have  looked  pitifully  and  kindly  on, 
this  morning,  as  the  tall,  old  man  from  the  mountains  took 
the  minister's  place,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  dingy  mission  hall. 
After  the  Bible  class  of  thirty  little  folks  and  a  few  elders. 
I  kept  them  all  instead  of  dismissing  as  usual,  and  Don  B. 
stood  behind  the  table,  and  read  several  chapters  in  Luke 
straight  through,  beginning  with  the  first,  genealogy  and  all. 
Now  and  then,  he  paused  for  a  remark.  Then  we  sang,  and 
next  he  read  a  prayer  from  the  hymn-book,  all  of  us  kneeling, 
but  hardly  knowing  whether  to  close  our  eyes  or  not!  The 
children  giggled  a  little  at  this  nev/  style  of  culto.  After 
another  hymn  the  culto  was  over.  It  is  a  comfort  to  know 
that  the  Lord  knew  what  was  in  the  old  man's  heart,  and  that 
sitting  in  the  heavens,  he  did  not  laugh. 

In  the  evenings,  I  am  reading  aloud  to  the  large  household, 
which  always  gathers  in  the  sala  and  in  the  dining-room  be- 
hind, when  the  day  is  done.  Most  are  ailing  and  tristes  and 
gladly  listen.  Tonight,  we  had  come  to  the  eleventh  chapter 
of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  in  Spanish,  They  are  eager  to  be 
going  on  with  the  story,  but  listen  intently  to  such  of  the  argu- 
ments as  it  seems  v^nise  to  give  to  their  anemic  brains.  Like  the 
Bible,  this  book  seems  to  have  been  written  for  just  such  simple, 
unspoiled,  needy  hearts. 

Little    Anita     has     improved     somewhat     under     Doctor 


Child    of    the    Sea [6n 

McC 's  care,  and  has  been  to  the  children's  class  once  or 

twice,  and  is  learning  to  sing  some  of  their  songs,  breathless  as 
she  is. 

The  poor  lady  in  the  hut  up  the  trail  has  died!  I  was  not 
there  at  the  moment,  but  the  women,  who  always  sat  about 
during  my  visits,  tell  me  that  to  the  last  she  kept  whispering 
over  and  over: 

Crista,  Crisio! 
Ope  tii  mi  voz! 

Can  I  doubt  that  He  heard? 

May  22,    1900. 

The  sick  lie  tucked  away  in  half-finished  or  unoccupied 
houses,  on  the  floor,  anywhere.  Until  the  very  last  days  of 
life,  they  manage  to  sit  up  and  even  drag  themselves  about  the 
streets.  In  many,  the  sickness  is  from  starvation,  and  ills 
resulting  from  exposure  to  rain  and  sun  by  turns.  Naturally, 
these  conditions  breed  disease.  The  wanderers  cannot  be 
driven  out  of  town,  as  there  is  only  devastation  in  the  hills 
from  which  most  of  them  come.  Yet  the  town  itself  is  too 
poor  to  care  for  all  of  them.  Today  I  found  a  sick  man  on 
the  sidewalk  and  had  to  get  him  into  the  hospital — a  place 
poor  enough,  but  rather  better  than  the  street  when  it  rains. 

Doctor  Mc  C called  up  a  hospital  attendant  for  me,  and 

a  litter  was  sent  at  once,  so  inside  of  fifteen  minutes  I  saw  the 
poor  fellow  in  the  hospital.  Much  else  I  saw — overcrowded 
rooms,  soiled  cots  and  linen,  unwashed  patients,  and  one 
woman  to  cook,  make  the  beds,  and  care  for  the  patients.  The 
"  attendant  "  is  a  sickly  man  himself.  There  seems  to  be  little 
food  for  these  sick,  as  there  has  been  some  hitch  about  getting 
supplies,  and  I  am  afraid  that  some  of  the  Porto  Rican  men 
of  the  town  who  might  set  matters  right,  are  content  to  lounge 


[62] Child    of   the   Sea 

over  their  tables  in  the  alcaldia,'^  and  scribble  and  criticize  the 
United  States  Government  over  their  cigars  and — bottles!  I 
have  seen  and  heard  them  at  it  in  the  inn. 

But,  happily,  there  are  others  among  them  of  a  different 

stamp.     Judge  F ,  and  Doctor  C are  always  willing 

to  help,  being  citizens  of  influence  and  broad-mindedness,  and 
there  are  others  un-self-seeking  enough  to  be  genuinely  trou- 
bled over  the  want  and  death  around  us. 

'Town  hall. 


Child   of   the   Sea  [63] 


VI 

Ah!  to  how  many  Faith  has  been 
No  evidence  of  things  unseen. 
But  a  dim  shadow  that  recasts 
The  creed  of  the  Phantasiasts, 
For  whom  no  Man  of  Sorrows  died. 
For  whom  the  Tragedy  Divine 
Was  but  a  symbol  and  a  sign 
And  Christ  a  phantom  crucified. 

— LongfelloVf. 

Adjuntas,  p.  R.. 
Sunday,  June  3,  1900. 

THE  past  week  has  been  a  nightmare.  Government  sup- 
plies came  for  the  destitute,  and  all  the  barrios  ^  of  the 
mountains  emptied  themselves  into  Adjuntas  which  had 
seemed  overflowing  before.  It  took  two  days  for  the  army 
wagons  to  bring  up  from  the  Port  and  deposit  their  loads  of 
codfish,  rice,  bacon,  beans,  and  calico  Mother  Hubbard  wrap- 
pers at  the  warehouse  doors,  and  for  all  to  be  stored — in  the 
room  adjoining  our  mission  hall,  although  this  charity  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  mission. 

A  swarming  but  feeble  multitude  filled  the  plaza  and  streets, 
some  deserving  and  very  needy,  others  undeserving  of  the  first 
aid  which  is  really  all  such  help  can  compass. 

It  took  many  hours  each  day  for  the  American  orderlies  to 
attend  to  the  heads  of  families  presenting  their  boletas,  the 
precious  bits  of  paper  obtained  in  as  nearly  an  orderly  way  as 
possible  through  the  commissary  agent  of  each  district, 

'  District*. 


[64] Child    of    the    Sea 

Some  poor  souls  had  lost  heart  with  the  long  waiting  for  the 
food-ship,  and  the  wagon-train,  and  had  trailed  back  to  the 
plantations,  without  aid;  some,  in  town,  are  too  ill  to  wait  in 
line  for  attention ;  others  are  too  unused  to  beggary  to  be  agile 
in  petition. 

When  it  was  learned,  in  some  way,  that  I  had  arranged 
for  some  suffering  families  to  be  fed,  the  hordes  precipitated 
themselves  upon  me,  on  Tuesday  and  Wednesday,  till  I  hardly 
dared  show  myself  outside.  In  the  mornings  they  waited 
patiently  for  me,  sitting  mutely  on  the  porch-steps  and  the  side- 
walk until  I  was  dressed  and  had  had  to  open  my  window-door 
for  light  and  air.  They  haunted  me  in  the  streets,  pattering 
behind  me  on  their  poor,  bare  feet,  by  silent  twos  and  threes, 
or  hailing  me  from  the  curb,  where  lines  of  them  would  sit  with 
empty  sacks  beside  them,  for  hours  at  a  time.  Some  were 
pitiful,  and  in  their  ignorance  pleaded  for  aid  in  securing  their 
tickets,  some  were  boldly  rude,  demanding  papelitos.  But  now 
at  last,  things  have  settled  down,  and  most  have  their  tickets, 
and  know  when  to  come  again  and  be  served. 

Other  matters  have  occupied  me  besides;  arranging  for  the 
whitewashing  of  our  mission  hall ;  planning  for  the  marriage  of 

A with  J ;  the  first  meeting  of  the  sewing-class ;  and 

several  visits,  besides  the  children's  classes.  The  wives  of  the 
American  engineers  and  the  captain's  wife  are  giving  material 
for  stout  underwear  so  grievously  needed  by  some  of  the  poor 
women,  and  large  girls  who  can  sew  are  to  come  to  the  mission 
for  making  chemises  and  skirts.  The  ladies  are  to  do  the  cut- 
ting out,  while  I  direct  the  girls,  as  the  former  do  not  speak 
Spanish. 

This  a.  m.  when  Mrs.  Andrus  and  I  went  to  the  mission  for 
Sunday  School,  Gabriel  had  not  opened  the  hall,  and  the  air 
was  unbreathable  inside,  with  the  stale  odors  of  codfish  and 
bacon  stored  in  the  next  room  filling  the  warehouse. 


Child    of    the    Sea [65]^ 

After  a  lame  beginning,  things  brightened  up  with  the  sun- 
shine and  breeze  pouring  in  along  with  the  swarming  children. 
From  a  wide  back  doorway,  there  is  a  most  lovely  view  of  the 
mountain  heights  ranged  against  the  sunny  morning  sky. 

There  were  forty-five  children  at  last  in  the  Sunday  School, 
plus  four  out  of  the  five  "  brethren,"  and  several  women.  Don 
B.  was  more  at  ease  in  his  service,  offering  a  faltering  but 
audible  prayer  of  his  own,  as  did  brother  ?■ also. 

It  is  a  novel  business  for  me  to  be  training  these  crude  be- 
lievers, but  there  is  a  strange  pleasure  in  it.     wore  a 

large,  clean  Turkish  towel  around  his  neck,  this  morning,  and 
his  clothes  were  freshly  laundered.  He  has  a  good,  sensible 
face  and  will  be  a  leader  some  day. 

Since  dinner,  I  have  been  to  V 's  house,  for  the  Bible 

class  with  her  neighbors.  The  red-clay  hill  road  was  wet  and 
slippery,  though  the  rain  was  over.  Afterward,  I  stepped 
across  the  lane  to  see  Primitiva,  the  bright-eyed  little  scholar 
who  is  sick.     I  found  her  so  dangerously  ill,  that  I  hurried 

back  to  town  for  Doctor  McC and  took  him  to  the  house, 

slipping  and  panting  up  and  down  the  steep  hill  road.  He 
thinks  the  child  has  spinal  meningitis  and  must  die,  but  pre- 
scribed for  her.      [She  died  very  quickly.] 

June  4,  1900. 

Judge  F came  in  a  while  ago  with  a  countryman  and 

his  wife,  to  ask  if  I  would  not  "  baptize  "  their  little  baby.  It 
was  ill,  and  they  could  not  pay  the  dollar  to  the  priest,  and 

Judge  F thought  I  would  do  as  well.      It  was  hard  for 

them  to  understand  how  I  could  refuse  to  do  so  simple  a  thing, 
when  nothing  the  missionaries  do  is  ever  charged  for — preach- 
ing, marrying,  nursing,  burying!  I  gave  them  some  advice 
about  the  baby  and  baptism,  which  to  me  at  least  seemed  good. 


[66] Child    of    the   Sea 

Bought  a  water-tight  barrel  at  a  store  for  the  whitewash 
mixture  for  the  mission  hall — cost  twenty-six  centavos. 


June  8,  1900. 

But  for  the  thought  of  the  stricken  and  drenched  ones  seek- 
ing shelter,  and  perhaps  finding  none,  and  for  the  delay  in  the 
coming  of  more  provisions  from  the  Port  of  Ponce,  I  should 
enjoy  the  deluging  torrents  of  rain  that  have  fallen  upon  us 
during  these  days,  and  the  great,  spectacular  drive  of  the  clouds 
from  one  side  of  the  valley  to  the  other,  swallowing  whole 
mountains  as  they  pass.  The  rain  falls  upon  the  zinc  roof 
directly  overhead  with  the  noise  of  some  solid  substance  dropped 
from  the  sky.  It  hisses  past  our  porch  in  driving,  opaque 
sheets.  It  streams  from  the  ragged  clouds  like  "  little  glass 
rods  "  boring  their  way  to  the  earth.  Certainly,  this  is  the 
rainy  season! 

On  class-day,  no  one  could  have  expected  children  to  come 
to  the  mission,  but  I  saw  little  faces  crowding  the  open  windows 
of  the  warehouse  looking  up  the  road  to  Doiia  Clara's,  at  4 
o'clock  on  Tuesday,  and  in  mackintosh  and  rubbers  I  went 
gladly  enough  to  honor  the  faithful — if  mistaken — few. 

The  river  is  swollen,  and  the  cottagers  along  the  banks  are 
in  a  panic.  On  coming  back  into  town,  I  found  the  rumor  of 
an  imminent  hurricane  everywhere,  and  people  were  nailing  up 
their  shop-doors! 

Poor  little  Manuel  is  one  of  my  latest  proteges.  A  fortnight 
ago,  he  "  appeared  "  to  us.  I  was  sitting  in  Dona  Clara's 
sola,  with  doors  opened  on  the  front  porch,  chatting  with  the 
family  as  I  often  do  after  lunch,  when  a  strange,  little,  ragged 
boy,  with  shining  eyes  and  whitest  teeth,  suddenly  stood  in  the 
doorway.  He  carried  a  wee  baby  in  his  arms,  wrapped  in  a 
clean,  white  cloth,  and  he  was  so  tired  that  he  plumped  down, 


Child    of    the    Sea [67]^ 

at  once,  on  the  door-step.  "  I  came  to  give  away  my  little 
sister.      Her  name  is  Carmelita,"  he  said,  with  a  grin. 

He  was  so  jolly-looking  for  all  his  ragged  hat  and  shirt,  and 
the  baby  so  clean,  that  we  could  not  help  taking  the  little 
creature  in  our  arms,  and  hearing  all  about  it.  But  how  could 
I  take  a  baby  to  keep?  Carmelita  was  but  seven  months  old, 
and  very  small  and  white,  and  the  life  I  lead,  with  its  upris- 
ings and  outgoings  and  no  abiding-place  of  my  own,  makes  it 
impossible  to  me  to  undertake  the  care  of  an  infant.  Just  as 
little  could  Dona  Lola  think  of  keeping  the  little  sad,  dark- 
eyed  thing,  with  Dona  Clara's  houseful  of  invalids  and  orphans 
on  her  hands. 

"See,  the  child  is  a  boba  (defective  or  idiot),"  she  cried, 
holding  it  on  her  lap  presently.  "  When  they  hang  their  heads 
forward  like  that,  they  have  no  sense,  pobre  criatura  that  she 
is!  "  Litde  Carmen  certainly  had  not  life  enough  to  hold  up 
her  little  black  head,  and  there  was  almost  no  expression  in 
the  baby  eyes.  It  seemed  to  make  no  difference  to  her  who 
handled  her,  and  she  did  not  whimper  as  she  lay  quietly  in 
my  arms  at  last. 

Manuel  told  us  of  his  sick  father  and  mother,  and  the  little 
brothers  and  sister,  at  home  in  a  grass-hut,  and  lying  on  the 
ground  with  nothing  to  eat.  Mama  had  no  more  milk  in  her 
breast  for  the  baby,  so  he  had  brought  her  dowm  the  mountain 
to  give  her  to  some  kind  woman  who  would  perhaps  buy  milk 
for  her.  After  feeding  him,  we  had  to  let  him  go.  We  knew 
some  woman  would  take  the  baby-sister  and  I  promised  myself 
to  help  care  for  the  child.  He  came  back,  presently,  to  say 
that  a  woman  had  taken  Carmen,  and  I  found  her  as  soon  as 
possible.  She  seems  kind  and  pitiful,  and  quite  able  to  keep 
the  poor  baby,  though  she  has  one  of  her  owm.  She  says  Car- 
melita needs  no  care  except  to  be  bathed  and  fed,  as  she  lies 
still  on  her  cot,  and  gives  no  trouble  at  all — poor  baby-starve- 


[68] Child    of    the    Sea 

ling.  With  my  help  she  will  take  better  care  of  the  child 
than  I  could,  as  the  house  is  clean  and  cosy  and  she  is  always 
at  home. 

Manuel  has  come  back  several  times  and  always  reports  his 
family  as  worse.  One  day,  as  he  is  a  strong  little  fellow  him- 
self, I  gave  him  work  to  do — the  clearing  of  Dona  Clara's 
side-yard  of  weeds.  Then,  I  despatched  him  to  the  river, 
which  was  not  yet  swollen  by  the  rains,  for  a  good  bath. 
Meantime,  I  had  begged  some  boy's  clothes  from  good  Mrs. 
Andrus — her  Clift  is  just  Manuel's  age — and  when  the  child 
came  up  from  the  river,  brown  and  shining,  I  had  him  dress  in 
the  clean  blouse  and  trousers.  His  own  were  only  fit  for  the 
fire.  He  was  a  delighted  boy  when  I  next  took  him  to  the 
store  for  a  new  hat,  and  then  Dona  Lola  sheared  his  shaggy 
black  locks.  I  have  two  suits  of  little  Clift's  clothes  for  him, 
and  he  is  to  change  each  time  he  comes  to  town.  He  is  a 
wonderfully  bright  little  chap,  always  eager  to  run  an  errand 
or  do  a  job  for  me. 

But  the  last  time  he  brought  sad  news.  On  returning  to  the 
hut,  away  over  the  mountain,  he  found  the  little  sick  brother 
and  sister  both  dead,  lying  on  the  ground  where  they  died! 
The  mother  is  too  ill  to  know  any  one.  I  would  go  to  them, 
but  those  who  know  say  it  would  be  quite  impossible,  with  the 
trails  rushing  torrents  now.  I  hated  to  send  the  brave  little 
fellow  off  in  the  rain  today — for  he  has  come  again — but  he 
carried  food  for  several  days. 

June  10.  1900. 

At  last,  the  mission  hall  Is  whitewashed  after  four  days' 
work,  for  the  ceiling  and  walls  were  begrimed  past  description. 
Now  the  floor  remains  to  be  scrubbed,  with  water  brought  from 
the  river.  Gabriel  informs  me  that  when  Don  Antonio  had  it 
scrubbed  for  our  occupancy,  months  ago,  one  hundred  and 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

sixty  bucf(etfuls  from  the  river  were  needed.  Well!  there  is 
abundance  of  water  now  in  Adjuntas,  if  scarcity  of  all  else. 

Last  night,  Justina  and  I  walked  out  by  the  light  of  a 
watery  moon  to  see  the  river  surging  across  the  bottom  of  our 
street  v^ath  a  deafening  roar.  One  of  the  American  engineers 
and  a  companion  had  a  narrow  escape  from  drowning  in  the 
river,  close  to  town,  today.      They  were  riding  big  mules,  and 

at  the  ford  Mr.  A was  swept  off  his  mule,  and  had  a 

dangerous  struggle  for  life,  for  a  few  seconds,  but  reached  the 
bank  safely.  The  mule  was  swept  far  down  the  river,  and 
was  almost  exhausted  on  recovery.  Fancy  one  of  our  big 
American  mules  exhausted! 

Sunday,  June  17,  1900. 

Again  the  huge  army  wagons  have  come  creaking  and 
crawling  up  the  road  from  Ponce,  bringing  food,  but  not 
enough  to  satisfy  the  hungry  horde  which  has  sat  brooding, 
day  by  day  along  the  road,  waiting  for  the  wagons.  If  only 
the  odors  in  the  warehouse  would  vanish  with  the  provisions,  as 
quickly  and  completely! 

Manuel  has  grown  thin  and  pale  with  his  exhausting  tramps 
back  and  forth  in  sun  and  rainstorm,  and  has  a  little  fever, 
malarial  doubtless. 

This  has  not  been  a  very  profitable  week  for  reporting 
numerically  to  the  Mission  Board  in  Boston.      Still,  quiet  talks 

with  V and  M seem  to  have  revealed  the  fact  that 

they  are  "ready  "  to  be  baptized.  Our  people  have  not  yet 
learned  a  gospel  language,  and  it  is  difficult  to  read  hearts. 
But  there  is  a  light  in  the  eyes  of  these  two  women,  and  their 
earnest  desire  for  knowledge  of  God's  will  for  them  speaks  for 
the  new  interest  which  has  come  to  them  both.  I  asked  one  of 
them  what  reason  she  had  for  thinking  herself  '*  converted," 
and  her  reply  was  simple  enough:  "  Before  I  knew  about  these 


[70] Child    of    the    Sea 

things,  when  I  was  washing  the  clothes  in  the  river,  and  the 
soap  would  slide  off  the  wet  rock  into  the  water  and  be  carried 
away,  I  used  to  say  bad  words  enough,  feeling  very  angry  in 
my  heart.  Now,  when  that  happens,  I  just  laugh  and  say, 
'  Well,  I  must  go  back  to  the  house  for  another  piece  of  soap ! 
I  have  a  very  bad  temper,  but  the  Lord  is  taking  it  away." 

This  morning  it  showered,  but  the  children  came  dropping 
— and  dripping — into  the  mission  hall.  At  10  o'clock, 
brother  B.  had  not  arrived  for  his  service,  although  I  knew 

that  he  was  already  in  town.     So  P and  J came 

up  to  the  front  of  the  room.  I  sent  two  or  three  mere  infants 
home  after  Sunday  School,  during  a  hold-up  of  the  rain,  and 

then  P read  in  the  Bible,  after  we  had  sung  a  hymn. 

Another  hymn   and   some  phrases   of  prayer   followed   from 

P ,  and  B.  who  had  arrived  meanwhile;  then  came  the 

doxology,  and  the  benediction  (pronounced  by  myself,  as  I 
see  that  the  men  find  it  difficult  to  end  a  service  and  so  send 
the  people  away;  perhaps  it  seems  a  rude  thing  to  do!).  So 
the  meeting  concluded.  No  grovvTi  folks  besides  us  were 
present,  except  one  old  woman  inclined  to  converse  with  the 
nearest  children. 

After  all  was  over,  I  was  charmed  to  have  P say  to 

me :  "  Next  time,  it  will  be  different.  I  shall  read  a  chapter 
during  this  week,  and  think  of  some  words  to  say  as  an  intro- 
duction to  it,  and  explanation  of  it."  That  I  had  already 
suggested  this  procedure  to  him,  in  a  former  talk,  did  not  de- 
tract from  his  satisfaction  in  feeling  it  to  be  his  own  thought 
and  plan.      He  read,  this  morning,  in  a  good  clear  voice. 

And  Brother  B.  had  wished  to  read  his  chapter,  after  all, 
late  as  he  had  arrived,  but  the  children  were  too  tired  to  listen 
to  more.  Besides,  I  want  these  rnen  to  realize  their  responsi- 
bility. They  must  be  helped  to  st^Yid  alone.  Yet  I  wish  to 
be  on  my  guard  against  too  much  "  personal  conduction." 


Child    of    the    Sea  [71] 


VII 

O  wild  and  wondrous  midnight, 

There  is  a  might  in  thee 
To  make  the  charmed  body 

Almost  like  spirit  be, 
And  give  it  some  faint  glimpses 

Of  immortality! 

— Lowell. 

Ad  JUNTAS,  p.  R., 
June  29,  1900. 

THE  day  after  I  wrote  last,  Manuel  returned.  I  sat  in 
my  doorway — also  the  only  window  in  my  room — just  at 
sunset,  writing  to  Mrs.  Re)aiolds  in  Boston  some  official 
account  of  "  the  Work."  The  child  appeared  suddenly,  as 
usual — one  moment  he  is  not,  the  next  he  is !  He  was  very  pale 
and  excited,  yet  told  collectedly  of  his  mother's  burial  that  day. 
As  it  was  very  late,  I  fed  him  and  kept  him  all  night.  Doiia 
Clara  is  very  kind  to  my  little  refugee  and  lets  him  lie  on — 
something,  on  the  dining-room  floor!  The  next  day,  I  de- 
spatched him  with  his  sack  supplied  with  provisions  for  the 
family  remaining,  but  he  grew  too  ill  to  get  beyond  the  edge 
of  town.  He  managed  to  crawl  back  to  the  store  next  door 
to  our  house.      From  there,  a  woman  brought  him  to  me,  and 

here  he  has  been  ever  since.      Doctor  C ,  the  Spanish 

physician  here,   is  very  good  about  coming  to  see  the  child 

(Dr.  McC having  left  Ad  juntas)  and  says  he  has  a  fever 

of  some  kind.  He  lies  very  quietly,  by  day,  on  a  little  mat- 
tress we  have  made  for  him,  stuffed  with  the  sweet  dry  grass 
of  the  fields.     I  have  made  sheets  and  a  pillow,  bought  a  cot- 


[72] Child    of    the    Sea 

ton  blanket,  and  Mrs.  Andrus  has  provided  two  suits  of  her 
boys'  pajamas.  The  mattress  is  thick,  cool,  and  springy,  and 
occupies  a  corner  of  my  tiny  room,  on  the  floor  of  course,  as 
there  is  no  room  for  a  cot.  At  bedtime,  Doiia  Lola  and  I 
draw  the  mattress  with  the  patient  into  the  sala,  just  outside  of 
my  door,  for  the  night.  From  my  own  bed,  I  can  hear  every 
movement  on  the  pallet-bed,  and  am  up  and  down  all  night. 
Today,  his  fever  is  running  very  high,  and  the  little  sun- 
browned  body  is  scorching  hot.  But  Manuel's  smile  is  always 
ready,  and  he  says  he  is  un  poquiio  mejor — a  little  bit  better. 

I  should  be  going  down  to  Ponce  now,  but  cannot  leave 
Manuel.  He  was  brought  into  poor  Doiia  Clara's  house,  be- 
cause the  woman  who  found  him  had  seen  the  little  fellow  with 
me,  and  now  he  is  too  ill  to  be  moved,  if  there  were  anywhere 
to  move  him  to. 

Last  week,  Mr.  R.  was  up  from  Ponce,  and  there 
were  many  cultos.    On  Sunday,  the  twenty-fourth,  the  women, 

M and   V ,   were   baptized,    and    also   the   youth 

R ,  as  the  morning  sunshine  sparkled  over  the  river.      I 

sang  myself  hoarse  with  the  insatiable  children  afterward,  and 

at  V *s  house  later,   and   a  vocal  cord   seems  to  have 

snapped. 

At  last,  Gabriel  and  I  had  gotten  our  big  dingy  meeting- 
hall  into  beautiful  (?)  order,  for  the  fortnightly  service.  A 
part  of  the  river  had  been  sluiced  and  swept  over  the  floor ;  the 
whitewashed  walls  gleamed  in  the  light  of  all  the  lamps,  filled 
and  scrubbed ;  a  new  text  in  large  letters  of  blue  blotting-paper 
was  on  the  white  wall;  a  new  table-cover  of  the  new  kind  of 
cloth  called  k^ak'i  decked  the  old  table,  and  lovely  roses 
decked  the  table-cover.  So,  we  were  quite  fine  for  this  week's 
services.  .  .  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  leave  this  little  town 
alone,  and  go  down  to  big,  hot  Ponce  with  its  many  workers. 

I  am  reading  some  volumes  of  Bayard  Taylor's  "  Travels." 


A  Waif  of  the  Hurricane 


Flowery  Plaza  in  Adjuntas 


Child    of    the   Sea  [73] 

Antiquated?  Perhaps  so,  but  he  saw,  as  it  seems  to  me  few 
travel-writers  of  this  day  let  themselves  see.  I  think  that,  as 
Maria  Mitchell  says  of  her  own  journeying-eye,  Taylor  gave 
most  attention  to  what  he  found  in  foreign  parts  superior, 
rather  than  inferior,  to  our  own  civilization — a  wholesome 
process.  His  "  Egypt  "  and  "  Norway  "  and  "  Sweden  " 
are  refreshing  reading. 

Government  supplies  for  the  starving  come  but  fitfully,  and 
the  nightmare  of  poverty  increases,  as  the  people  grow  from 
impatient  to  bold,  and  from  worn-out  to  despairing.  I  have 
been  grieved  and .  tormented  in  turn  by  their  insistent  demands 
upon  my  time. 

Sunday,  July  1.  1900. 

The  night  after  I  wrote  last,  Manuel  was  taken  with  profuse 
hemorrhages  from  the  bowels.  His  fever  raged  and  there  were 
other  grave  symptoms,  until  toward  morning  he  was  on  the 
verge  of  collapse.  The  good  doctor  came  across  the  street  to 
us  in  the  night,  and  Doiia  Lola  "  stood  by  "  all  the  next  day, 
or  I  should  hardly  have  gotten  through  after  the  night  of  stress- 
ful nursing.  I  napped,  now  and  then,  as  Manuel's  fever 
lowered  toward  afternoon  after  another  hemorrhage  at  noon. 
The  poor  little  fellow's  only  complaint  all  day  was,  "  The  day 
seems  very  long!"  Today  has  been  restful,  since  Manuel's 
bath.  Dona  Lola  stayed  with  him  while  I  was  at  the  mission. 
All  was  quiet  and  solemn  inside  the  mission  hall.  In  or  out  of 
the  Island  there  could  not  have  been  found  thirty  better-be- 
haved children  than  ours  today.  Dear  Mrs.  Andrus  came  to 
sing  with  them,   to  rest  my  broken   "  cord,"   and   afterward 

P led  the  morning  worship  well.      It  poured  rain  outside, 

so  there  was  no  lounging  in  the  doorways.  The  blessed  chil- 
dren remembered  my  request  and  only  helped  instead  of  hin- 
dering with  giggling  whisp§fs,  even  when  P pleaded  over 


[74]  Child    of    the   Sea 

and  over  with  one  of  the  "brethren  "  to  make  a  prayer — in 
vain! 

Then  came  the  bath!      Esmerigildo  had  already  filled  a  tin 

bathtub  borrowed  of  Doctor  C ,  and  set  it  beside  poor 

Manuel's  pallet.  Hot  water  was  added  when  I  came  home 
from  the  mission,  and  four  of  us  proceeded  to  wash  the  child 
as  gently  and  swiftly  as  possible,  with  soap  and  cloths.  His 
little  hot  body  was  covered  with  a  crust  of  dirt  and  dry  skin, 
which  none  of  my  frequent  spongings  had  availed  to  remove, 
and  the  doctor  says  he  must  sweat  the  fever  out!  I  was  only 
too  glad  to  have  the  cleansing  bath  at  last  permitted,  although 
Manuel  has  looked  a  very  well-regulated  little  patient  without 
it.  Since  noon,  however,  his  fever  has  kept  at  its  height — 
scorching — and  I  am  not  sure  that  the  bath  was  not  too  strenu- 
ous an  affair  in  his  feeble  state. 

At  last,  the  baby  Carmelita  is  dying,  apparently  of  pure 
inanition.     The  woman  has  taken  good  care  of  her. 

[She  died  that  day.] 

July  3.  1900. 

Manuel's  fever  baffles  the  doctor.  He  grunts  today,  as  he 
sleeps  heavily  and  yet  says,  when  roused,  that  nothing  hurts 

him.      Doctor  C comes  three  or  four  times  a  day  to  see 

my  little  waif. 

July  5.  1900. 

Yesterday  was  a  dismal  day  enough,  for  everybody.  I 
had  had  an  indescribable  night  with  Manuel.  The  "  grunts  " 
of  day  before  yesterday  meant  congested  lungs  and  the  doctor 
is  fighting  pneumonia  and  the  fever,  which  seems  to  be  t])phus. 
We  know  now  that  it  was  a  malignant  fever  of  some  kind  that 
carried  off  Manuel's  mother  and  the  little  brother  and  sister. 
I  have  never  touched  so  scorching  hot  a  human  body,  in  a  good 


Child    of    the    Sea [75]| 

deal  of  experience  of  nursing.     There  is  no  ice,  only  cold 
well-water  for  spongings,  and  the  cloths  from  his  body  heat  it 

at  once  in  the  little  basin.      Doctor  C uses  no  clinical 

thermometer,  and  I  keep  no  chart,  but  I  am  sure  the  tempera- 
ture has  reached  1 05  °  more  than  once. 

I  was  just  trying  to  catch  a  moment  of  sleep,  after  a  last 
sponging,  yesterday  morning  at  dawn,  when  a  cannon-shot  or 
two  was  fired  in  salute  of  the  day — the  Great  and  Glorious. 
The  diana,  or  reveille,  was  being  played  by  a  guard  at  every 
street  corner  in  turn,  to  rouse  the  town  to  holiday-making  when, 
suddenly,  every  sound  ceased!  And  "we  learned  later  in  the 
day,  that  an  American  soldier  had  died  at  3  a.  m.  in  the  hos- 
pital, and  the  person  having  the  program  of  the  day  in  charge, 
not  being  notified  of  the  death  in  time,  had  of  course  not 
withdrawn  the  order  for  the  diana  until  too  late.  Every  plan 
for  racketing  was  called  off,  and  instead  of  the  patriotic  parade 
of  townsmen  and  soldiers,  the  Fifth  Calvary  Troop  I,  in 
mourning,  turned  out  to  escort  the  body  of  their  comrade  in 
the  ambulance,  part  of  the  way  down  to  Ponce.  The  day 
was  bereft  of  all  merrymaking,  which  better  suited  me  and  my 
sick  boy  than  any  one  else  in  town.     Poor  soldier  lad! 

July   15.   1900. 

Not  much  doing  in  all  the  past  week  but  holding  on  to  the 
feeble  life  of  the  little  sick  boy,  prolonging  it,  saving  it  perhaps, 
for  what?  Yesterday  Manuel  went  into  a  fainting-fit,  and  the 
sweat  stood  in  great,  clear  drops  over  his  body.  From  every 
pore  of  his  face  and  breast  a  sweat-drop  exuded,  giving  the 
queerest  appearance,  as  if  the  little  body  were  dew-laden !  We 
thought  the  end  near  as  his  little  browTi  liands  and  chilling 
limbs  and  even  his  closed  eyelids  quivered  curiously.  The 
doctor  was  at  hand  stimulating  him,  and  had  me  dust  starch- 


[76] Child    of    the    Sea 

powder  and  cinnamon  continuously  over  the  sweating  skin  to 
close  the  pores. 

For  the  first  time,  we  "  sat  up  "  with  him  all  night  long, 
Doiia  Lola  giving  me  three  hours  good  sleep  until  half-past  2 
this  morning.  Then  M.  slept  quietly,  and  I  had  only  to 
watch  his  pulse,  giving  a  little  brandy  with  the  milk  now  and 
then,  for  his  fever  was  almost  gone,  and  there  were  no  repeated 
spongings  as  usual.      I  read  by  lamplight  dear  "  Little  Dorrit." 

I  kept  the  porch-door  of  the  sala  where  M.  lay,  wide 
open  to  the  sky  all  night,  and  once  I  heard  some  one  on  the 
sidewalk  below  call,  "  Dona  Juanita!  "  and  a  policeman  stood 
outside  in  the  dark,  asking  if  anything  had  happened.  No  one 
here,  except  rash  Americans,  ever  sleeps  with  windows  or  doors 
open!  I  explained,  and  the  man  went  off  assuring  me  that  he 
would  be  v^thin  call  if  anything  should  be  needed.  I  suppose 
"  all  the  world  "  knows  about  Manuel.  It  was  a  comfort  to 
think  of  somebody  awake  and  alert,  near  by. 

At  4  o'clock,  I  made  a  cup  of  cocoa  on  the  little  oil-stove  in 
my  bedroom,  and  stood  on  the  porch  drinking  it,  to  watch  the 
summer-day  break  over  the  mountains.  A  billowing  marvel 
of  silver  mist  rolled  low  in  the  valley  about  us,  the  moonlit 
mountains  high  against  the  pale  sky  beyond.  Later,  the  slopes 
grew  green  in  the  coming  light,  as  the  moon  went  down  in  the 
west,  and  after  a  while  the  sun  came  up  quickly  in  the  east 
behind  the  mountaintops,  the  sky  turning  from  pink  to  gold. 

The  street  and  plaza,  empty  all  night,  except  for  my  guard- 
ing sereno  on  his  beat,  were  unnaturally  beautiful  in  the  silence 
and  the  moonlight  of  dawn,  before  the  bedraggled  poor  began 
to  come  out  of  their  crannies  and  trail  up  and  down  in  the 
dawning.  The  first  one  of  all  to  stir  in  our  street  was  a  little 
boy,  about  Manuel's  age,  ragged,  dirty,  hungry  of  course. 
By  the  time  the  sun  touched  the  hibiscus  blooms  in  the  plaza, 
dishevelled  women  and  hollow-eyed  men  were  well  abroad. 


Child    of    the    Sea [77] 

A  little  nap,  a  bath  and  hurried  dressing,  coffee  and  bread, 
and  a  dash  to  the  butcher's  shop  for  a  bit  of  good  meat  for 
Manuel's  broth,  brought  me  finally  to  9  o'clock  and  Sunday 
School  again. 

All  day,  M.  has  seemed  better,  with  no  fever  so  far  as 
I  can  see,  for  he  is  a  little  below  normal  in  temperature,  and 
must  be  stimulated,  now  and  then.  Yesterday's  startling  crisis 
must  have  been  the  turning-point  in  this  dreadful  fever,  and  I 
suppose  that  the  sudden  drop  in  temperature  would  have  been 
fatal  if  M.  had  not  been  such  a  hardy  youngster.      Doctor 

C 's  treatment  has  seemed  to  be  very  sane,  away  off  here 

where  we  have  had  no  "  appliances."  All  the  medicines,  dis- 
infectants, even  port  wine  and  other  stimulants,  he  has  pro- 
vided from  the  hospital  stores,  and  he  will  not  allow  me  to 
speak  of  remuneration  for  his  assiduous  care. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  possible,  some  day,  for  me  to  look  back 
upon  these  shut-in  weeks  in  the  teeming  Porto  Rican  cottage,  as 
time  not  lost  or  wasted,  though  what  to  do  with  this  child  after 
he  recovers,  I  know  not. 

July  19,  1900. 

This  morning,  I  threw  open  the  screen  guarding  the  open 
doorway  so  that  Manuel  might  have  a  glimpse  of  the  sky  and 
mountains  from  his  lowly  bed  on  the  floor.  He  was  still  look- 
ing up,  his  eyes  as  bright  as  brown  beads,  when  the  doctor 
came  in,  as  pleased  as  could  be  to  see  his  patient  so  well.  "  I 
am  looking  at  the  sky,"  said  Manuel.  "  Pero,  hace  pocos 
dias  estahas  tu  mas  cerca  del  cielo  que  ahora!  "  "  But,  a  few 
days  ago,  thou  wast  nearer  heaven  than  now!  "  the  doctor 
replied.  Manuel  has  asked  for  the  little  sister  Carmelita,  and 
knows  now  that  she  has  gone  away,  to  suffer  no  more.  He 
did  not  seem  to  grieve  when  I  told  him,  but  lay  very  quiet,  and 
then  said,  "  It  seems  as  if  all  my  family  were  dying!  " 


US] Child   of    the   Sea 

What  days  of  loveliness  we  are  having!  It  is  as  if  the 
best  of  Junes  and  Octobers  were  welded  together  to  produce 
perfection  of  temperature.  The  air  is  so  breathable  up  here 
in  the  hills  that  I  wish  all  the  tired  missionaries  on  the  hot 
coast  might  have  strong  wings  to  bring  them  up  here  without 
fatigue,  to  breathe  it. 

Sunday,  July  23,  1900. 

Manuel  has  no  more  fever,  but  I  found  him  crying  bitterly, 
his  head  under  the  sheet,  this  morning,  because  he  knows  now 
that  I  must  be  going  down  to  Ponce  very  soon. 

A  large  class  of  children  was  waiting  for  me  In  the  old 
warehouse,  this  morning,  and  we  read  together,  for  many  have 
books  now,  the  four  accounts  of  Jesus'  resurrection.  Many 
men  and  women  grouped  about  the  doors  entered  to  hear  a 
short  after-talk  intended  for  them. 

Alack !  alack !  Captain  Andrus  and  his  troop  are  ordered  to 
leave  the  Island  in  a  few  days,  en  route  for  Fort  Myer,  near 
Washington,  D.  C.  I  should  like  to  know  how  many  of  our 
troops  being  withdrawn  from  Porto  Rico  in  these  days,  have 
had  such  a  commander.  He  has  been  as  much  interested  in 
the  poor  as  Mrs.  Andrus  has  been.  They  have  kept  open 
house  for  the  men  of  their  troop  on  Sunday  afternoons  and 
evenings,  singing  with  them  at  the  piano,  and  helping  all  who 
come  to  them  to  realize  their  manhood  and  their  responsibilities 
here  in  our  new  bit  of  earth. 

July  26,  1900. 

The  troop  is  on  the  march  today,  for  San  Juan,  where  it 
will  embark  on  a  transport  for  New  York.  The  captain  has 
just  been  in  to  say  good-by,  and  now  the  double  file  of  splen- 
did horses  mounted  by  our  fine,  blond  men,  with  the  captain 
jat  their  head,  has  just  wound  out  of  sight  along  the  road  to  the 


Child    of    the    Sea [79]| 

ford.  I  stood  on  the  porch,  and  "  the  boys  "  saluted  as  they 
passed,  leaving  a  real  ache  in  my  heart.  Mrs.  A.  and  the 
children  will  go  down  in  the  big  ambulance  after  a  day  or  two. 

It  is  a  still,  hot  day,  with  a  touch  of  seacoast  softness  in  the 
air.     Adjuntas  seems  very  empty ! 

Tomorrow,  Manuel  is  to  sit  up  for  fifteen  minutes  in  a  rock- 
ing-chair, arrayed  in  a  blue  serge  sailor-suit  bequeathed  to  him 
by  Chft  Andrus. 

There  will  be  no  Americans  here  now,  except  the  two  lieu- 
tenants of  two  little  bands  of  native  soldiers — a  dozen  each  of 
cavalry  and  infantry,  which  have  taken  the  place  of  Troop  I — 
two  or  three  engineers  and  myself.  The  new  military  doctor 
is  a  Scotchman.  I  shall  miss  the  long  line  of  fine  horses  trotting 
by  from  their  river  bath  every  day,  and  their  fair-skinned  riders 
in  blue  chambray  shirts,  khaki  trousers,  leggings,  and  broad- 
brimmed,  gray  felt  hats.  But  it  is  right  to  bring  the  Porto 
Ricans  into  service,  and  there  is  no  need  for  large  bodies  of 
United  States  soldiers  in  the  Island  now. 


August  1,  1900. 

Today,  two  years  after  our  "  invasion,"  and  accompanied 
by  much  trepidation  of  spirit  in  the  Island,  the  change  of  cur- 
rency from  Spanish  to  that  of  the  United  States  comes  into 
general  effect.  This  change  has  had  to  be  initiated  with 
"  courtesy  and  patience  "  on  the  part  of  the  commission  in 
charge.  Yesterday,  I  realized  fully  the  truth  of  the  saying 
that  money  is  worth  only  what  it  will  buy!  There  was  very 
little  United  States  currency  in  towm,  almost  no  cents — and 
daily  dealing  is  largely  in  cents'  worth  of  things — and  Spanish 
currency  was  refused  in  the  shops.  A  few  people  really  had 
nothing  to  eat,  as  they  buy  only  in  daily  quantities,  coffee, 
sugar,  bread,  an  egg  or  two,  miUc!      Some  articles  are  soaring 


[80] Child    of    the    Sea 

in  price  already — for  example,  a  box  of  matches  costs  one 
centavo  Spanish,  and  two  cents  "  gold  "  are  worth  three 
centavos  now.  Therefore,  for  two  cents  one  should  get  three 
little  boxes  of  matches,  no?  But  one  gets  only  two,  a  whole 
cent  apiece!  Now,  what  becomes  of  that  other  centavo? 
thinks  dear  old  Dona  Clara,  breaking  her  head  today  as  she 
"  makes  the  accounts  "  with  the  boy  from  market,  the  bread- 
man,  the  milkboy,  etc. 

Said  the  priest  to  some  one  when  Captain  Andrus  went 
away,  *'  Cracias  a  Dios  que  se  vaya,  ^  gracias  si  la  otra  tam- 
hien  se  fueral  Thank  God  that  he  goes,  and  thanks  if  the 
other  [Dona  Juanita]  would  go  too!  "  He  complains  that 
the  protesiantes  are  taking  all  the  marriages  away  from  him! 

Recently,  he  told  my  friend  Dofia  Angela  from  South 

America  that  her  little  girl  was  large  enough  now  to  prepare 
for  her  first  communion.  The  mother's  declining  was  spirited 
enough,  and  when  she  has  been  criticized  for  sending  her  five 
lovely  little  ones  to  the  mission  classes,  she  has  said :  "  I  send 
them  where  they  are  taught  to  love  God  above  all  things.  If 
that  were  taught  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  I  would  send 
them  there.  I  would  go  there  myself  in  that  case.  As  it  is, 
if  there  were  no  Protestant  service  here,  I  would  keep  them  at 
home,  and  teach  them  myself."     She  has  a  Bible  and  reads  it. 


Ponce,  P.  R., 
August   12,   1900. 

Finally,  as  Doctor  C and  his  nephew,  having  business 

in  Ponce,  agreed  to  share  a  carriage  with  me,  which  I  could 
not  well  afford  alone,  I  left  Adjuntas  and  Manuel  on  the 
eighth,  the  anniversary  of  the  fateful  hurricane  of  one  year 
ago.  M.'s  feelings  were  beyond  control  as  I  got  into  the  car- 
riage at  our  door,  and  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  wept  aloud. 


Child   of   the   Sea [SU 

laying  his  little  cropped  head  down  on  the  porch-railing.  But 
he  is  getting  well  now,  and  can  walk  across  the  floor  without 
staggering,  and  Doiia  Clara  will  let  him  stay  until  my  plans 
are  made  for  him.  If  I  lived  alone  I  should  keep  him  with 
me,  of  course.  Mr.  Rudd  tells  of  a  Christian  couple — a 
Spaniard  married  to  an  American  lady — ^who  are  about  to 
open  an  Industrial  Home  for  orphan  children  near  Ponce,  and 
it  is  possible  that  they  will  take  Manuel,  whose  father  has  van- 
ished completely. 

I  am  just  home  from  Sunday  School,  and  with  a  wilted 
collar  and  exhausted  breath.  I  thought  I  fully  appreciated  the 
fine  quality  of  the  air  in  Adjuntas  while  actually  breathing  it. 
We  were  still  miles  away  from  Ponce,  but  nearing  sea-level  as 
we  came  galloping  dovm  the  mountain,  when  the  languor  and 

heaviness  touched  our  breasts.      Yet,  Doctor  C told  me, 

on  our  way  down,  that  one  hundred  persons  had  died  in 
Adjuntas  and  the  vicinity  between  the  first  and  seventh  of  the 
month. 

It  is  good  to  be  here  again,  with  the  missionary  family,  and 
in  my  pleasant  little  room.  Mission  history  has  been  writing 
itself  in  capitals  and  italics  during  these  months,  and  I  cannot 
seem  to  catch  up  with  the  details.  The  church  over  in  San 
Juan  was  "  organized  "  early  in  this  year.  The  McC.'s  and 
Miss  Hayes  are  just  as  absorbed  there  in  the  north  of  the 
Island  as  we  are  here  in  the  south.  Perhaps  "  there  will  come 
a  reaction,"  as  some  say,  in  the  interest  of  Porto  Ricans  in 
the  Bible  and  the  study  of  God  In  his  world.  Perhaps  there 
will  be  revived  an  indifference — if  indifference  can  be  revived 
— to  any  deeper  and  purer  religious  ideas  than  they  have  been 
accustomed  to.  Already,  as  a  whole,  they  are  growing  used 
to  Americans,  and  some  criticize  our  ways  and  our  government, 
forgetting  former  adversities,  and  turning,  as  it  were,  to  the 
flesh-pots  of  less  strenuous  ambitions. 


[82] Child    of    the    Sea 

It  is  difficult  for  a  tropics-bom  and  hitherto  unprogressive 
people  (necessarily  unprogressive  from  conditions  submerging 
them)  to  acquire  the  view-point  of  an  alien  northern  nation 
suddenly  projected  among  them;  and,  for  myself,  I  do  not 
wonder  that  there  should  be  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  Porto 
Ricans  keeping  step  with,  and  even  of  accepting,  American 
ideas.  They  have  certainly  experienced  some  disillusions  along 
this  line.  Even  gospel  teaching  keeps  those  of  them  who  are 
earnestly  trying  to  learn,  at  a  white-hot  pitch  of  strain,  if  not 
exactly  of  struggle!  Of  course,  some  will  find  the  new 
Christian  life  too  strenuous  for  mortal  Islander  to  live.  But 
many,  gracias  a  Dios,  are  proving  its  power  and  beauty,  even 
if  they  sometimes  stumble  in  the  going.  .  . 

Monserrat,  with  her  one  blind,  bulging  eye,  and  rough,  bare 
head,  stood  at  a  window  on  the  sidewalk  one  night,  outside  the 
mission,  with  her  "  old  man  "  who  was  not  yet  properly  her 
old  man  at  all,  emd  she  liked  the  singing  and  the  praying  and 
the  hand-shaking — especially  the  post-culto  hand-shaking,  I  am 
sure — going  on  inside.  So,  one  night  she  came  in  with  her 
old  man,  and  she  has  never  gone  out,  so  to  speak.  She  has 
been  "  married  fep  the  cullo"  as  they  say,  and  neither  one  of 
the  old  couple  ever  misses  a  service.  Indeed,  it  would  seem 
that  nobody  ever  tires  of  listening  to  a  sermon  in  the  mission 
hall. 

August  14,  1900. 

Washerwomen,  cooks,  bakers  have  been  on  a  strike  as  a  con- 
sequence of  the  change  of  currency.  And  just  at  first,  it  is 
easy  for  the  more  ignorant  to  rebel  at  receiving  now  fewer  cenh 
for  labor  than  centavos  formerly,  when  a  cent  does  not  seem 
to  have  any  more  purchasing  value  than  a  centavof  A  woman 
who  now  receives  fifteen  cents  for  washing  a  dozen  articles  looks 
back  with  indignant  longing  to  the  twenty -five  centavos  of  last 


Child    of    the    Sea [83] 

month  for  the  same  work,  as  fifteen  cents  does  not  seem  to 
go  any  further  in  the  stores  than  fifteen  centavos  did!  All  this 
will  soon  be  arranged,  of  course,  and  the  centavo  and  peso  for- 
gotten, but  indeed  our  little  United  States  cent  does  look  very 
insignificant  beside  the  big,  heavy  centavo  piece,  which  is  of 
about  the  size  and  weight  of  that  one-cent  "  copper  "  once  in 
circulation  in  America. 

Now  that  we  have  our  afternoon  Bible  School  at  La  Playa, 
the  Port  of  Ponce,  two  miles  away,  I  must  spin  thither  on  my 
wheel  at  half  past  three  every  Sunday,  and  I  find  the  tires  are 
giving  way  after  their  long  rest.  The  road  is  dusty,  sunny, 
and  hot,  but  there  are  a  few  tamarind  trees,  a  flamboy)dn  or 
two,  and  clumps  of  bamboo,  or  a  towering  cocoanut-palm,  now 
and  then,  along  the  way.  I  need  a  horse  and  some  kind  of 
carriage  for  the  miles  out  of  Ponce.  Already  there  is  talk  of 
a  future  trolley-line  for  Ponce  and  the  Port.  .  .  There  is  such 
a  mixture  of  blood  in  the  coast  towns,  that  one  meets  every  pos- 
sible shade  of  the  human  complexion.  The  law  against  naked- 
ness of  young  children  in  public  is  not  doing  much,  as  yet,  to 
cure  that  useless  evil.  A  rather  amusing  species  of  eye-service 
is  in  vogue,  such  as  hustling  a  naked  baby  out  of  sight  on  the 
approach  of  an  American,  or  calling  to  an  urchin  enjoying  a 
dust-bath  in  the  street  to  run  for  his  life  into  a  bit  of  shirt 
waved  from  a  doorway!  Sometimes  a  laughing  mother  will 
say  to  a  little  brown  rogue  clasping  my  knees,  in  a  Cantera 
shack,  "  Go,  get  your  cam'isa,  or  Dona  Juanita  will  whip 
you!  "  '*  It  is  you  who  should  have  the  whipping,"  I  have 
retorted  more  than  once,  and  not  laughing  at  all.  But  this 
evil  will  pass  with  others,  as  self-respect  and  altruism  develop 
in  the  Island.  Of  course,  the  heat  of  the  coast  towns  en- 
courages this  bad  custom,  for  in  the  mountains  one  rarely  sees 
9.  naked  child, 


[84]  Child    of    the   Sea 


September  II,  1900. 

While  I  sat  in  my  room  studying,  a  week  ago,  there  came  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  outside  stood  Manuel,  plump  and  rosy ! 
The  doctor's  wife  and  daughters  had  brought  him  down  to  me. 
The  little  fellow  was  as  happy  as  possible  and  kissed  both  my 
hands,  and  all  through  his  six  days'  stay  at  the  R.'s  home 
followed  me  about  like  a  loving  little  dog.  His  na'ive  delight 
over  his  first  experience  of  a  big  city's  doings  were  very  amus- 
ing.    Yesterday  the  Spaniard,  Don  M ,  sent  a  man  for 

him  and  he  went  off  sorrowfully,  on  horseback,  perched  be- 
tween two  full  sacks  of  grain.  Another  small  orphan,  destined 
for  the  same  school,  bestrode — as  far  as  his  short  legs  would 
go — another  horse  v/ith  its  pack.  I  know  Manuel  will  be  safe 
now,  and  he  is  to  work  when  strong  enough,  as  well  as  to  learn 
to  read  and  write.  His  beaming  smile  will  win  affection  any- 
where. 

The  children  poured  into  Sunday  School  last  Sunday,  until 
there  was  no  room  for  more.  As  these  have  become  my  charge 
now,  I  gave  Carmen  ten  of  the  littlest  ones  to  teach,  for  the 
whole  swarm  in  our  bit  of  a  side-room  could  not  be  taught 
anything  at  all. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [85] 


VIII 

Our  little  lives  are  kept  in  equipoise 

By  opposite   attractions  and  desires: 
The  struggle  of  the  instinct  that  enjoys, 

And  the  more  noble  instinct  that  aspires. 

— LonqfelloVf. 

Adjuntas,  p.  R., 
September  29,    1900. 

THE  long-expected  organ  for  Adjuntas,  sent  to  us  by 
Mrs.  Thomas  of  Newton,  Mass.,  arrived  at  the  Port 
on  this  week's  ship,  so  as  I  had  rashly  promised  the  peo- 
ple to  come  up  and  help  inaugurate  it,  when  it  should  come,  I 
joined  Mr.  Rudd  and  Don  Enrique  and  little  C ,  yes- 
terday, on  the  long  carriage  drive  hither.  On  our  way  out  of 
Ponce  we  passed  the  big  organ  box,  resting  in  the  ox-cart  under 
a  tree  by  the  roadside,  three  oxen  "  outspanned  "  and  lazily 
chewing  the  cud  close  by.  The  fourth  had  sickened  and  had 
had  to  be  driven  back  to  town!  The  organ  had  been  sent 
ahead  of  us  the  night  before,  and  we  were  rather  chagrined  at 
the  delay,  as  it  had  to  be  in  Adjuntas  in  time  to  be  unpacked 
today  for  Sunday — tomorrow.  I  had  just  blowm  out  my  can- 
dle late  last  night,  hours  after  we  had  arrived  at  Dona  Clara's 
house,  when  Gabriel  came  to  my  outer  door  announcing  jubi- 
lantly the  arrival  of  the  cart  with  the  organ.  So,  today,  it  has 
been  unpacked  and  set  up  in  the  warehouse. 

September  30,  1900. 

My  birthday.      A  fair,  cool  day.      I  went  early  to  meet 
the  dear  children,  once  again,  in  the  mission  hall,  and  we  sang 


[86] Child    of    the    Sea 

with  the  organ  for  half  an  hour  before  classtime,  to  their 
ecstatic  dehght.  Two  were  baptized  in  the  river,  this  after- 
noon, one  of  our  boys  and  a  middle-aged  man.  In  the  evening 
after  Don  Enrique's  sermon,  the  Lord's  Supper  was  adminis- 
tered to  the  little  band  of  ten  in  the  presence  of  a  crowded  and 
very  respectful  congregation.  Afterward,  there  was  a  mar- 
riage.     There  generally  is! 

An  absolutely  full  day,  but  it  was  hard  to  leave  the  porch 
tonight  and  come  to  bed,  at  a  late  hour,  with  the  mountain 
moon  glorifying  the  quiet  night.  Back  to  Ponce  tomorrow. 
And  our  people  here  must  be  left  to  their  every-day  concerns, 
which  have  not  materially  changed  in  character,  whatever 
change  may  be  coming  to  their  outlook  upon  life.  How  much 
does  this  new  impulse  mean  to  the  real  life  of  each  of  the  ten 
"  members  "?  Is  it  to  be  only  for  Sundays  and  the  other  red- 
letter  days  when  some  missionary  can  be  with  them?  Truly, 
I  think  not.  We  shall  be  glad  when  each  little  church  can 
have  a  native  pastor,  or  "  elder  "  to  foster,  and  guide  it  along 
ways  of  independence  of  us,  for  greater  dependence  on  God 
and  themselves. 

Ponce,  October  28,  1900. 

A  beautiful,  plain  communion  service  has  been  sent  to  the 
Ponce  church,  by  a  young  ladies'  society  of  Providence,  R.  I. 
Now,  with  more  dignity  the  Supper  will  be  served  tonight. 
There  are  the  silver  flagon,  two  goblets,  and  two  plates.  We 
use  a  red  wine  watered,  and  bread  made  in  the  house. 


November  8,  1900. 

I  am  planning  a  vacation  of  ten  days.  My  old  friend,  the 
S.  S.  Caracas,  Is  due  here  tomorrow,  and  I  shall  meike  the 
round  trip  with  her  to  the  Venezuelan  coast,  stopping  at  the 


Child    of    the    Sea [8/1 

Dutch  island  of  Curacoa  on  the  way.  The  heat  is  excessive, 
and  the  Island  has  growTi  a  little  too  small  to  hold  even  me  for 
a  w^hile. 

The  terrible  earthquake  shocks  of  last  week,  which  shattered 
Caracas  and  other  towns  of  Venezuela,  make  some  shudder, 
yet  I  have  no  fear  of  going  there.  The  "  brethren  "  prayed 
touchingly,  tonight,  in  the  culio  at  La  Playa,  for  "  Doiia 
Juanita's  "  safety  on  her  trip.  How  do  they  learn  to  pray  so 
faithfully,  so  earnestly?  I  do  not  pray  half  so  self- forgetfully. 
The  drive  home  afterward,  with  Don  Enrique,  was  enchanting 
in  the  full,  white  moonlight  and  the  freshness  of  the  night —  the 
towering  grace  of  the  palms,  and  the  quiet  of  the  limitless  cane- 
fields  on  each  side  of  the  road  seeming  a  vision  of  a  different 
world  from  that  of  the  glaring,  heated,  racketing,  noisy  day 
just  past. 

Ponce,  November  20,  1 900. 

This  morning,  the  mountains  of  our  ovm  Island  seemed  to 
float  among  the  clouds  as  our  ship  drew  in,  home  from  the  far 
South.  The  sea  was  shining  blue  and  dancing  for  joy,  after 
yesterday's  storm  of  wind  and  racking  waves.  It  was  just  8 
o'clock  when  the  rowboat  brought  me  ashore,  with  my  spoil  of 
travel,  baskets,  fruit,  and  trinkets  from  South  America,  and  a 
good  vnW  for  work  after  ten  strange  and  delightful  days  in 
foreign  ports — Curagao,  La  Guayra,  and  Puerto  Cabello. 

November  21,  1900. 

Our  church's  first  *'  anniversary  "   tonight.     The  meeting 
was  enthusiastic.      Faces  beamed,  songs  were  sung  with  gusto, 
there  could  not  have  been  more  reverent  and  absorbed  atten- 
tion to  every  word  of  prayer  and  teaching.      Surely  some  of 
G 


[88]  Child    of    the    Sea 

these  are  God's  own.     And  with  what  unction  at  the  end  all 
the  people  said.  Amen!      One  year  old. 

November  25.  1900. 

There  were  a  hundred  and  fifteen  in  Bible  School  today. 
It  was  good,  after  ten  days  away,  to  be  in  the  crowded  little 
red  hall  again,  not  half  so  large  as  the  Adjuntas  warehouse 
mission,  and  with  the  eager  scholars.  But,  I  am  to  go  to 
Yauco  this  week,  where  there  is  exacting  need  of  work  among 
the  women  and  girls.  Since  that  first  meeting  there,  in  the  Httle 
fruit-shop,  the  missionary-in-charge  has  made  regular  trips 
thither,  and  has  just  now  opened  a  rented  mission-room  for 
cultos. 

Yauco,  P.  R., 
December  5,  1900. 

I  am  sta)nng  in  a  small,  clean  room  in  the  "  American  Vic- 
tory "  hotel,  on  the  second  floor.  Panchita,  the  little  errand 
girl  of  the  hotel,  went  with  me  to  the  first  service  November  27, 
and  I  found  the  street  outside  of  the  house  full  of  women  and 
girls  crowding  the  sidewalk  up  to  the  door,  and  listening  to  the 
hynm,  "  Pass  me  not,  O  gentle  Saviour,"  in  rather  noisy 
fashion.  Scarcely  a  woman  was  inside,  but  there  was  a  crowd 
of  men  and  boys.  In  and  out  they  came  and  went  regardless, 
but  some  returned  and  a  few  remained  all  the  while.  All 
listened  as  they  might  in  the  slight  confusion  to  Mr.  R.'s 
talk  about  "  The  Sower  " ;  open-eyed  they  heard  the  prayers, 
and  I  doubt  if  they  knew  they  were  prayers!  They  tried  to 
sing  a  hymn  or  two,  some  highly  diverted,  others  serious.  It 
was  a  novel  experience,  even  in  Porto  Rico,  to  sit  as  I  did  and 
look  into  the  faces  of  business  men,  half-grown  youths,  beggar- 
men,  boys,  infant  stragglers — who  ought  to  have  been  at  home 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

and  abed — all  of  the  less  gentle  sex  listening  with  curiosity  to 
the  "  new  thing."  They  heard  only  an  old  story,  but  told  in 
a  way  to  which  they  are  little  accustomed.  A  notice  was 
given  to  the  women  and  girls  and  children,  that  "  Doiia 
Juanita  "  would  have  a  class  for  them  the  next  day. 

The  next  morning  was  spent  in  visiting  several  families,  and 
in  getting  an  idea  of  the  streets,  so  that  I  easily  made  a  map 
of  the  little  town  by  noon.  The  afternoon  class  I  had  rather 
dreaded,  as  not  all  first  things  are  easiest  things,  in  mission 
fields.  Yauco,  compact  and  conservative,  is  very  different 
from  depressed,  appealing  Adjuntas,  and  big,  easy-going 
Ponce.  There  are  quicksilver  and  electricity  here,  and  I  did 
not  know  but  that  I  might  find,  instead  of  a  handful  of  women 
and  girls  in  the  mission,  a  horde  of  mocking  street-boys,  white 
and  black,  and  perhaps  gibing  young  men  as  my  congregation. 

The  actual  result  of  the  invitation  was  twenty-five  school 
children,  mostly  boys  of  course,  and  some  of  them  big  boys, 
five  women,  and  two  gentlemen.  The  last  were  my  best 
listeners,  by  the  way,  and  the  order  was  very  good,  after  I 
had  invited  several  rough,  disorderly  fellows  to  leave  the  room. 
As  I  quietly  waited  until  they  were  ready  to  go  and  obeyed, 
there  was  no  confusion,  and  the  two  men  entered  as  the  boys 
left.  Those  two  listened  with  scarcely  a  movement,  until  the 
end.  I  wonder  what  they  got  out  of  it,  that  simple  lesson  for 
the  children. 


The  slim,  little  black-robed  priest  is  out  every  day,  and  I 
have  a  genuine  curiosity  to  learn  what  he  is  telling  the  people 
about  the  Protestant  invaders,  but  can  make  a  pretty  good 
guess  at  it.  I  see  his  long,  black  skirt  whisking  in  and  out  of 
by-streets  as  I  make  my  own  way,  here  and  there,  and  though 
he  does  not  appear  to  do  so,  I  do  not  doubt  that  he  sees  the 


[90] Child    of    the    Sea 

whisking  of  mine — sometimes  ahead  of  his  own!  In  Ponce 
we  have  had,  or  known  of,  no  opposition  from  priests,  except 
in  their  sermons.     They  have  little  to  do  with  "  the  masses." 

I  notice  that  many  of  the  boys  in  the  mission  class  are  fine, 
public-school  youths  of  enlightened  families,  and  have  found 
that  these  children  are  well  grounded  in  Bible  history  and 
Roman  Catholic  tradition.  (Not  in  "  evangelical  "  truth, 
however.) 

Hot  sunny  weather.  I  sat  on  a  bench  in  the  plaza  and 
talked  with  "  nice  **  little  girls,  prettily  dressed  and  as  merry 
as  grigs — but  they  do  not  come  to  the  mission. 

December  7,  1900. 

There  are  two  priests  here  now,  and  in  their  sermons  and 
visits  they  are  actively  stirring  the  people  against  our  teaching. 
I  hope  the  younger  one,  whom  I  see  every  day,  is  teaching  his 
friends  not  to  hate  us  but  to  seek  and  love  the  truth.  Yet, 
can  I  hope  it?  He  has  an  advantage  in  knowing  these  people, 
who  are  his  own  parishioners,  more  or  less  in  sympathy  with 
his  attitude  from  "  custom,"  if  not  from  conviction,  while  I 
am  limited  as  yet  to  making  acquaintances.  Certainly  from 
the  others'  view-point  I  am  an  intruder,  a  meddler,  a  proselyter. 
But  I  wall  not,  either  as  lady  or  missionary,  force  myself  into 
any  house  or  my  arguments  upon  any  one.  There  are  open 
doors  for  truth  almost  anywhere,  if  one  has  seeing  eyes  to  find 
them. 

Sometimes  a  pretty  baby  on  a  doorstep  smiles  up  into  my 
face — or  it  may  be  that  he  screams  with  terror — and  I  stop 
to  caress  him  and  mama  comes  hurrying  out  to  speak  to  the 
americana.  Yesterday,  I  saw  a  lady  making  lace  by  hand  in 
a  room  opening  on  the  sidewalk,  and  stepped  in  to  order  a  few 
yards  of  the  pretty  stuff,  which  I  really  wanted.     This  morn- 


Child    of    the    Sea [9n 

ing,  I  found  the  family  more  than  willing  to  have  me  tell 
the  meaning  of  our  mission  to  Yauco,  and  a  sweet  young  girl 
said,  "  Oh,  mama,  if  we  could  only  get  one  of  those  Bibles, 
[a  strange  book  to  them]   and  read  for  ourselves  the  truth! 
I  was  glad  to  tell  her  she  could! 

Decembers,  1900. 

*'  Da^  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  of  the  Virgin  Mar))" 
In  order  that  Jesus  should  have  been  conceived  "  without 
sin,"  the  Virgin  mother  must  have  been  born  without  contami- 
nation of  original  sin.  So,  in  1854  Pius  IX  issued  the  dogma 
of  the  Immaculate  Conception  (of  Mary,  not  of  Jesus  as  is 
sometimes  supposed)  teaching  that,  in  some  mystical  way,  be- 
fore she  was  born  of  *'  Joachin  "  and  "  Anna,"  the  wonderful 
miracle  freeing  her  from  sin  took  place  within  Anna's  bosom! 
It  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  feast-days  of  the  modem 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  thousands  of  little  girls  in  the 
world,  bom  on  December  8,  are  given  the  name  of  Concep' 
cion  in  Spanish,  with  Concha  and  Conchita  as  pet  names. 
Therefore  many  birthdays  are  being  celebrated  today! 

Sunday.  December  9,  1900. 

A  new  vision  of  God's  great  love  to  men,  from  reading  Van 
Dyke's  *'  Gospel  for  a  World  of  Sin  "  today. 

The  first  Sunday  School  of  Yauco  today.  Twenty-one  at- 
tended, "  the  pick  "  of  the  week-day  classes,  and  all  went 
quietly.  Some  curiosity  is  being  satisfied,  some  interest  has 
lapsed,  some  remains.  I  hope  the  children  learned  something 
of  their  new  "  Friend  "  today,  from  the  lesson  and  from  the 
hymns  they  so  dearly  love  to  shout. 

After  hot  milk  and  toast,  in  my  room  tonight,  I  talked  in 


[92] Child    of    the   Sea 

the  little  hotel  parlor,  until  9  o'clock,  with  Mr.  D m  from 

Boston,  a  thoughtful,  cultured  American  gentleman,  who  is 
here  about  the  immense  sugar-mill  enterprise  being  established 
at  Guanica  near-by. 

December  14,  1900. 

Here  is  an  advertisement  of  Ambrosiani  wines  which  I  read 
in  yesterday's  paper,  "  La  Democracia  "  of  Ponce — comment 
unnecessary : 

"Before  the  celebraled  Ambrosiani  appeared  on  the  scene,  99^  per 
cent  of  the  inhabitants  of  Porto  Rico  died  poisoned  tp  the  brandies  and 
liquors  which  the  ma}(ers  made  for  us.  But  noit>  Ambrosiani  has  come, 
I.  e.,  the  Moses  of  Porto  Rico,  and  as  He  t>ho  rvas  born  in  Nazareth 
saved  the  soul  of  humanit))  with  his  doctrines,  so  Ambrosiani  has  come 
to  save  the  soul  of  Porto  Rico  from  certain  death."     (Translation.) 

December  19,  1900. 

Mr.  R.  has  come  from  Ponce  several  times  in  these 
days  for  an  evening  service  and  seems  to  be  getting  a  good 
grip  on  some  earnest  hearers.  The  days  for  me  are  busy  from 
"  coffee  "  in  the  morning,  until  dinner  at  night,  with  an  interim 
for  lunch  and  a  siesta  at  midday. 

Though  Sunday  was  given  over  to  "  religiosity  "  by  the 
town,  and  little  girls  flitted  to  the  big  church  in  the  plaza,  wear- 
ing white  veils  and  ribbons  of  blue — Mary's  color — for  their 
first  communion,  the  second  Sunday  class  was  good.  The 
American  public-school  teacher  accompanied  me  to  the  mission, 
and  it  was  amusing  to  see  the  waiting  Sunday  School  rise  to  its 
feet  as  one  child  as  their  young  teacher  entered  the  mission. 
As  she  is  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  known  to  be  such,  I  was 
glad  to  have  her  there,  that  she  may  testify  to  the  fact  that 
Dona  Juanita  does  not  really  desire  to  eat  alive  those  who  are 
not  of  her  doctr'ma! 


Child    of    the    Sea m 

Afterward,  we  two  encountered,  or  rather  avoided,  the 
Virgin's  procession  of  girls  and  women,  singing  through  the 

streets, 

Ave  Maria,  Madre  mia. 
Mi  consuelo  en  el  ciclo,  etc. 

We  walked  out  into  the  country,  skirting  the  vine-grown 
aqueduct,  and  finding  charming  views  of  the  green  valley,  with 
the  purple  wing  of  evening  folding  in  velvety  softness  over  the 
surrounding  mountains — in  restful  contrast  to  the  tawdry  tur- 
bulence of  the  streets  behind  us. 

In  the  four  months  since  Bishop  Blenk  (of  the  United 
States)  sent  the  priest  Pasalagua  here  to  Yauco,  to  take  the 
place  of  the  aged  incumbent  who  formerly  served,  this  man  has 
brought  the  town  from  a  dead  religious  state,  as  some  one 
here  has  told  me,  to  its  present  vigor  in  churchly  duty.  Many 
attend  the  neglected  early  mass  and  the  every-night  sermons, 
while  large  numbers  go  to  his  boys'  and  girls'  catechism  classes 
directly  after  school,  my  hour,  in  the  afternoons.  It  may  be 
said  that  religion  is  on  a  boom  just  now  in  Yauco.  If  this 
zealous  priest  would  teach  the  truth  of  God,  instead  of  raising 
Mariolatry  to  the  nth  power  among  women  and  girls,  how 
gladly  we  would  go  somewhere  else  to  teach.  Very  few  little 
girls  dare  to  come  to  the  mission,  yet  many  make  shyly  sweet 
overtures  for  acquaintance,  and  I  am  invited  to  the  "  best  " 
houses,  chiefly  out  of  curiosity  to  hear  of  the  North,  and  of  the 
styles,  customs,  and  what  not,  for  Americans  still  have  prestige 
in  the  Island,  and  Yauco  was  the  first  town  to  receive  the 
United  States  army  as  it  marched  through  from  little  Guanica- 
on-the-Bay,  inland.  With  hot  coffee,  and  rose  garlands,  and 
beaming  smiles,  the  soldados  americanos  were  greeted  in  these 
streets  two  years  ago.  But  missionaries  from  the  great,  little- 
known  North  are  something  more  than  mere  americanos,  and 
they  must  be  taken  with  pounds  of  the  salt  of  caution. 


[94] Child    of    the    Sea 

This  morning  I  came  upon  a  choice  spirit.  Maria  Rodri- 
guez, in  giving  me  her  touching  history,  showed  her  real  devo- 
tion to  Jesus  Christ  and  to  his  mother.  When  I  told  her  of 
his  own  saying,  "  All  power  is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and  in 
earth,"  and  that  the  apostle  Peter  had  said  that  in  no  other 
name  is  there  salvation,  she  accepted  my  word  as  simply  as 
she  had  believed  what  I  told  her  of  the  facts  of  my  ovm  life 
which  had  seemed  to  interest  her.  "  I  did  not  know  that," 
she  said  thoughtfully.  "  My  mother  taught  me  many  prayers 
to  Jesus,  also  to  the  Virgin.  All  my  people  believe  as  I  have 
done." 

It  costs  these  dear  crejjenfes  a  pang  to  give  up  their  idea  of 
Mary's  power  with  her  Son.  Much  less  it  costs  to  look  with 
disfavor  upon  confession  to  priests,  and  even  to  doubt  the  value 
of  the  propitiation  of  saints.  But  the  beautiful,  tender,  sor- 
rowing "  Mother  of  God  "  makes  strong  appeal  to  their  hearts. 
A  lady  in  Adjuntas  told  me  one  day,  that  she  knew  that  the 
Bible  as  we  teach  it  is  true,  but  that  no  one  could  take  from 
her,  and  others  like  her,  her  veneration  of  the  Blessed  Holy 
Mother.  May  this  Maria  find  in  the  blessed  Son  of  God  all 
that  she  needs,  for  all  that  the  world  needs  is  to  be  found  in 
him.  It  is  remarkable  that  although  we  never  attack  this  faith 
in  Mary,  it  is  usually  the  first  subject  introduced  when  Roman 
Catholic  women  talk  with  us.  "  But  you  do  not  believe  in 
the  Blessed  Virgin!  "  is  often  their  instant  demur.  "  Oh,  yes, 
I  do,  though  not  just  as  you  do,  perhaps,"  I  reply.  "  Let 
me  read  you  what  la  Palabra  de  Dios  tells  about  her.  More 
than  this  we  know  nothing  of  her.  But  this  is  enough."  And 
often  I  am  surprised  to  find  how  satisfied  many  are  to  see  that 
we  do  "  believe  in  "  her  to  some  extent.  It  is  never  of  much 
use  to  argue  such  points,  apart  from  the  mere  reading,  as  their 
traditional  beliefs  slip  away  naturally,  when  God's  Spirit  really 
reaches  their  hearts. 


Child    of    the   Sea  [95] 


January  18,  1901. 

86°  Fahrenheit! 

Said  Pedro,  in  the  boys*  club  meeting  last  night:  "The 
other  day  I  was  in  a  house  where  everybody  is  strictly  Catholic, 
and  one  of  the  ladies  asked  me  if  I  were  one  of  the  boys  who 
go  to  the  cultos.  I  was  afraid  to  say  '  yes,"  because  they  are 
mu})  catoUcas,  and  I  said  '  no  '! 

His  bright,  black  eyes  fell  as  he  spoke,  but  he  looked  up 
bravely  after  I  had  reminded  him  of  another  Peter  who  was 
afraid  to  say  "  Yes  "  once,  long  ago,  when  asked  if  he  knew 
Jesus.  The  dear  boy  says  he  will  have  mas  valor  next  time 
and  say  "  Yes." 


[96]  Child    of    the    Sea 


IX 

All  fruits  the  trees  of  this  fair  garden  bore, 
Whose  balmy  fragrance  lured  the  tongue  to  taste 
Their  flavors:  there,  bananas  flung  to  waste 
Their  golden  flagons  with  thick  honey  filled; 
From  splintered  cups  the  ripe  pomegranates  spilled 
A  shower  of  rubies;   oranges  that  glow 
Like  globes  of  fire,  enclosed  a  heart  of  snow — 


All  flowers  of  precious  odors  made  the  day 
Sweet  as  a  morn  of  Paradise. 

— Bayard  Taylor. 


Ponce,  P.  R., 
February  20.    1901. 

AS  usual,  with  a  pang,  I  have  again  left  one  branch  of 
our  work — Yauco — to  take  up  another — Ponce. 
Tonight,  a  colored  man  spoke  in  prayer-meeting  in 
a  touching  way.     The  subject  of  the  study  was  "  Never  man  so 

spake."     S said  that  many  had  spoken  with  him  in  his 

lifetime,  but  no  words  had  ever  so  touched  his  heart  as  Jesus* 
words.  His  old  mother  had  often  counseled  him  for  the 
right;  friends  had  led  him  astray  by  their  words.  He  had 
gone  after  "  strange  women  " — one  of  these  had  come  with 
him  to  the  mission  the  first  time  of  all.  "  She  never  returned," 
he  said.  "  I  have  never  left  off  coming,  but  no  man  has  spoken 
like  Jesus  to  me.  Now,  though  I  am  black,  and  my  mother 
was  black,  and  the  Senora,"  pointing  to  a  missionary  sitting 
near,  "  is  white,  the  words  Jesus  spoke  are  for  all  of  us,  white 
and  black.     The  same  Father  is  the  Father  of  white  and 


Child    of    the    Sea [9£ 

black."     This  seemed  to  affect  him  very  deeply,  and  his  voice 
broke  several  times  as  he  spoke. 

Ad  JUNTAS,  P.   R., 
March  13,   1901. 

Just  seven  months  since  I  was  here!  For  the  first  days  I 
am  in  the  little  room  where  the  blue  roses  creep  up  the  livid 
walls,  at  Doria  Clara's,  but  I  have  taken  half  of  the  big,  empty 
house  close  by,  where  Captain  Andrus  lived,  and  shall  try 
housekeeping.  There  are  a  few  bits  of  furniture  there,  and  I 
have  a  hammock,  house  linen,  and  a  steamer-rug.  The  rooms 
are  large  and  sunny,  with  pretty  papering,  and  there  is  the 
supreme  luxurj'  of  a  slender  piping  of  water  into  the  kitchen. 

Casa  Grande,  Adjuntas, 
March  15.  1901. 

Happy  am  I  in  this  big  house,  so  quiet,  cool,  and  ample. 
The  scouring  and  spider-chasing  have  made  it  clean  and  sweet, 
after  having  been  unoccupied  for  months.  I  have,  practically, 
the  whole  house,  as  only  the  sunshine  and  the  mountain  breezes 
occupy  the  empty  half,  not  technically  mine.  There  are  two 
small  flower-gardens,  one  behind  the  long  back  veranda,  the 
other  directly  beneath  my  bedroom  windows  on  the  cool  side  of 
the  house.  The  Spaniard  who  built  the  house,  three  years  ago, 
died,  and  his  family  is  in  Spain.  No  one  has  occupied  it  but 
the  two  American  captains  in  their  simple,  camping-out  style,  so 
it  is  still  new  and  fresh.      I  feel  like  a  queen  in  her  palace. 

Housekeeping  could  be  a  nuisance,  but  with  good  Luisa  in 
the  kitchen,  to  do  as  much  of  the  planning  as  she  will,  I  shall 
not  think  much  about  food,  and  with  no  bric-a-brac,  carpets, 
curtains,  oiled  floors,  or  spare  furniture,  housecleaning  will  be 
reduced  to  its  lowest  terms.      Here,  I  have  space,  air,  silence. 


[98] Child    of    the    Sea 

finer  pictures  framed  by  window-frames  than  hang  on  any  gal- 
lery walls,  and  a  back  veranda  fairly  wreathed  and  garlanded 
with  a  beauteous  flowering  vine,  while  rose-trees  full  of  buds, 
just  now,  reach  upward  toward  my  bedroom  window. 

Dear  Dona  Clara  is  as  friendly  emd  hospitable  as  ever,  but 
her  house  is  overfull  now  of  sicknesses  lingering  on  to  sad  ends. 

Fruit  is  ridiculously  cheap  and  very  plentiful  this  year;  ten 
or  a  dozen  oranges  cost  one  cent;  the  little  bits  of  bananas, 
good  for  frying,  ten  or  fifteen  for  a  cent;  charcoal  brings  to 
the  charcoal-man  from  the  country  ten  cents  a  barrel,  and  kero- 
sene is  but  six  cents  a  quart,  and  milk  four! 

The  young  church  has  been  constant,  and  there  are  now  ten 
men  and  three  women  baptized.  They  have  been  holding  Bible 
School  on  Sundays  among  themselves,  and  some  one  has  ridden 
up  from  Ponce  every  fortnight  for  preaching-services. 

Saturday  night,  March  16,  1901. 

Three  of  the  "  members  "  came  to  me  tonight,  by  invitation, 
to  talk  over  tomorrow's  services.  Two  of  these  are  apt  in  fol- 
lowing the  methods,  and  even  in  copying  the  manner  of  those 
who  come  to  preach,  and  have  learned  to  lead  a  culto  very 
well  indeed.  But  they  need  help — as  who  does  not? — in 
studying  what  they  are  to  pass  on  to  others.      I   lent  them 

books,  and  we  chatted,  until  R proposed  leaving,  at  last. 

Thereupon  M ,  a  bright  youth,  said,  *'  I  could  stay  here 

all  night  talking  with  Doiia  Juanita! 

Monday,  March  18,  1901. 

The  crowding  children  were  restless,  dear  hearts,  at  yester- 
day's double  service,  but  they  sang  splendidly,  and  M- 


stood  beside  me  at  the  organ  and  saved  my  cracked  larynx 


Child    of    the    Sea [99]^ 

with  his  own  strong  voice  leading.  Afterward,  he  told  me 
that  he  might  have  to  leave  Adjuntas,  seeking  work  elsewhere, 
and  added:  "  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  our  little  church  here. 
If  I  can  help,  I  want  to  stay.  There  is  nothing  so  good  and 
sweet  to  me  in  Adjuntas  as  the  mission." 

A  really  good  evening  service  led  by  P .     As  my  cook 

was  away,  a  band  of  little  boys  escorted  me  to  and  from  the 
mission.  We  came  home  in  the  pouring  rain,  and  my  big 
house  would  have  seemed  dreary  and  lonely  to  one  who  minds 
being  alone. 

The  stormy  wind  and  rain  were  company  enough  for  me  so 
long  as  I  was  inside  and  they  out,  and  I  sat  cozily  writing  in 
the  patch  of  light  thrown  by  my  lamp  in  the  big  room,  until 
nearly  midnight.  Then  I  locked  up  and  went  to  bed,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  alone  in  a  house  all  night.  The  wind 
rustled  the  banana  leaves  against  my  shutters,  and  I  drew  up 
the  heavy  traveling-rug  and  slept  till  8  o'clock  this  morning. 

March  20,  1901. 

Luisa  has  just  come  to  ask  if  my  worship  likes  her  bit  of 
steak  broiled  half-raw  or  well  browned.  I  like  her  old-fash- 
ioned way  of  saying  su  merced,  and  mi  Senora.  The  young 
ones  do  not  talk  so!  Luisa  was  the  cook  at  the  inn,  last  year, 
but  was  ill,  and  when  I  found  her  the  other  day,  she  was  suf- 
fering in  her  shanty,  without  work  or  money.  She  was  glad 
to  come  to  work  for  me,  and  I  am  glad  that  she  has  agreed 
to  sleep  in  the  house. 

Tonight,  I  visited  a  family  of  very  agreeable  folks.  They 
tell  me  that  spiritualism  is  taking  a  stronger  hold  here  than 
ever,  and  that  many  of  the  principal  families  here  are  attending 
ceniros  or  seances,  and  that  most  of  those  who  attend  our  ser- 


[100]  Child    of    the    Sea 

vices  are  spiritualists,  not  Roman  Catholics;  that  they  call  our 
services  "  theirs! 

Now,  this  is  what  I  see:  that  in  a  reaction  from  Romanism, 
or  in  its  utter  negligence,  many  have  taken  up  espiritismo  as  a 
cult;  it  is  in  a  very  crude  form,  and  in  many,  many  cases  it 
has  been  for  want  of  something  better  than  the  Roman  Catho- 
lic Church  has  offered  them.  The  simplicity  of  the  mission 
services,  without  form  or  ritual,  and  conducted  entirely  in 
their  own  language,  has  attracted  some  of  these,  along  with  the 
many  who  have  no  faith  in  spiritualism.  May  the  God  of 
truth  teach  them  a  better  way! 


Heavy,  gold-hearted,  fragrant  roses  are  growing  by  the 
handful  on  my  garden  trees.  The  night  air  is  full  of  their 
perfume,  and  is  pure  and  cool.  Country  sounds  and  the  mur- 
mur of  the  river  are  the  music  of  the  night,  and  close  under  my 
windows,  the  coquis,  tiny,  brown  whistling  frogs,  serenade  me 
all  night  long.  I  am  very  happy  to  be  here,  living  a  simple 
life  among  this  simple-hearted  people.  The  mountains  loom 
big  and  black  by  night,  without  the  moon,  and  the  beaming 
stars  seem  so  close  that  I  might  almost  grasp  them  with  my 
hand. 

I  have  a  touch  of  malaria,  however,  and  Luisa  makes  me 
for  a  nightcap  a  sudorific  tea  of  her  own  concoction.  Last 
night,  it  contained  white  touch-me-not  blossoms  (colored  ones 
will  not  serve),  petals  of  the  hundred-leaf  rose,  fennel,  and 
leaves  of  two  other  plants  unknowTi  to  me. 

Little  Juanita  from  the  country  beyond  came  to  the  house 
again  yesterday,  more  ragged  and  unkempt  than  before,  but  so 
brave,  winsome,  and  merry  that  I  kept  her  to  talk  with  me  a 
little,  before  sending  her  off  down  the  highway  with  a  few 
things  in  her  sack. 


Child    of    the    Sea  UOl] 

"  What  did  you  buy  with  the  cents  Dona  Clara  and  I 
gave  you?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  With  one  cent,  rice;  with  half  the  other  cent,  sugar;  and 
with  the  other  half,  a  needle.  But  I  lost  the  needle,  so  my 
dress  is  not  mended,"  with  a  grin,  and  displaying  the  ripped 
gathers  in  her  skirt. 

I  showed  her  her  grimy  face  in  the  mirror,  and  she  was 
fascinated !  Also  I  told  her  that  I  never  spit  on  the  floor,  nor 
rest  my  soiled  hands  on  the  nice,  clean  wall-paper. 

"  I  shall  bathe,  and  comb  my  hair,  and  wash  my  dress  and 
mend  it,  and  then,  in  Holy  Week,  I  shall  come  and  visit  you," 
she  cried  beaming.  "  I  shall  converse  with  you  then.  I  think 
my  papa  vnW  die  soon,"  she  rattled  on,  "  because  there  are 
clouds  of  butterflies  on  all  the  hills,  up  our  way — great  butter- 
flies everywhere.  Once  before,  when  they  came  like  that,  my 
cousin  died,  and  now  it  means  that  my  papa  will  die.  His 
body  is  swollen — Oh!  you  should  see  him,  but  his  arms  are 
nothing  but  bones.  He  was  well  till  the  ciclon  came,  and  we 
had  a  zinc  roof  on  our  house,  but  the  wind  carried  the  pieces 
away  over  the  mountains,  and  we  never  could  find  them.  Now 
the  roof  is  of  ^agua  [palm-tree  bark  at  the  leaf-steam] ,  and  my 
father  is  dying.  My  stepmother  and  I  are  working  hard  to 
clear  a  bit  of  ground  where  we  can  plant  things,  so  after  my 
papa  dies,  we  can  have  something  to  live  on.  We  have  a 
pound  of  beans,"  counting  on  her  little  brown  fingers,  *'  and  a 
little  rice,  and  two  little  potatoes,  and  a  pound  of  corn  for 
seed." 

And  so  on  she  chattered,  teeth  and  eyes  gleaming  through  a 
tangle  of  sunburnt  hair.  Her  "  conversation  "  pleases  me  as 
much  as  that  of  some  senoritas  who  wash  their  faces  and  hands 
every  day!  I  gave  the  child  a  needle  and  thread  and  other 
treasures,  and  she  departed  on  light  feet  for  the  hut  somewhere 
up  among  the  hills. 


LTBHARY 
^  SANTA  BARBARA 


[102] Child    of    the    Sea 

A  neighbor  assures  me  that  a  black  butterfly  fluttering  into 
a  house  means  the  death  of  some  inmate.  So  it  lies  between 
Luisa  and  me  now,  as  a  velvety  black  beauty  visited  my  room 
today !  Butterfly  season  has  come.  A  poet  would  have  been 
inspired  by  the  "  cloud  "  of  little  blue  and  white  ones  drifting 
along  my  path  today! 

Sunday.  March  31,  1901. 

P spoke  to  a  large,  attentive  crowd  tonight,  in  the  mis- 
sion hall  on  "  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments."  Out- 
side in  the  road  there  was  a  little  disorder  among  the  crowd 
gathered  there,  but  no  one  inside  paid  attention  to  it.     After  a 

hymn,  and  a  long  pause,  P asked  some  other  "  brother  " 

to  speak.     No  one  would  open  his  mouth.     More  hymns,  two 

prayers,  then  P talked  again,  from  the  first  verse  of  the 

chapter  this  time,  *'  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled."  It  seems 
that  some  townspeople  are  troubling  the  children  who  attend  the 
mission,  and  his  warning  was  that  those  who  do  not  care  for 
"  the  truth  "  themselves  should  not  "  trouble  "  the  hearts  of  the 
innocent  children  who  come  to  us! 

Thou,  O  Christ,  who  dost  understand  hearts,  wilt  not  fail 
to  accept  the  spirit  of  devotion  to  thy  cause  of  thy  servants 
who  are  learning  of  thee.    Thy  words  were  for  the  consolation 

of  troubled  hearts;  P 's  tonight,  for  warning  those  who 

would  "  trouble  "  the  hearts  of  others,  and  for  comforting  the 
little  ones! 

Homeward,  with  the  little-boy  escort,  one  child  bearing  the 
day's  accumulation  of  flowers — every  yard  in  Adjuntas  now 
has  its  boxes  and  beds  of  flowers — another  carrying  the  lamp, 
another,  my  umbrella,  still  another,  my  books,  still  others  com- 
ing just  for  the  fun  of  tagging  along  too.  But,  after  they  had 
helped  put  the  flowers  into  water,  I  turned  them  out  to  go  to 
their  beds. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [103] 


April  3.  1901. 

Two  country  girls  from  over  the  Giant's  head,  came  to 
see  me  today,  early,  before  I  had  finished  straightening  up 
the  house.  They  brought  loveliest  flowers  in  profusion — 
lilies,  roses.  Cape  jessamines,  tuberoses,  "  do-not-marrys," 
"  widows,"  scarlet  sage,  begonias,  and  many  others.  Also  a 
large  handkerchief  containing  twenty-two  ripe,  sweet  oranges 
from  good  Don  B. 

Tonight,  the  church  of  thirteen  meets  here  for  the  second 
time,  for  their  Bible  study.  Private  reading  at  home  is  not 
sufficient  for  them,  as  they  are  finding  out  for  themselves,  and 
they  are  eager  for  study,  with  intelligent  questions  and  answers. 
It  is  a  pleasure  to  have  a  place  for  receiving  them,  more  cheer- 
ful than  the  dim  warehouse  room.     P promises  to  begin 

teaching  J to  read.     Two  say  their  sight  is  too  old  and 

dim  for  learning  to  read. 


[104]  Child    of    the    Sea 


Come  fo  me,  O  ye  children! 

And  whisper  in  my  ear 
What  the  birds  and  winds  are  singing 

In  your  sunny  atmosphere. 

For  what  are  all  our  contrivings 

And  the  wisdom  of  our  books 
When  compared  with  your  caresses. 

And  the  gladness  of  your  looks? 

— LongfelloVf. 

Adjuntas,  p.  R., 

Easter  Sunday,  April  7,  1901. 

ON  such  feast-days  as  "  Holy  Thursday,"  "  Holy  Fri- 
day," and  "  Saturday  of  Glory,"  Roman  Catholicism 
rises — or  descends — to  scenic  effects.  I  did  not  see 
the  procession,  day  before  yesterday.  Holy  Friday,  as  I  kept 
quietly  indoors  until  it  should  be  over.  So  often  I  have  seen 
such  that  I  feel  only  a  sad  distaste  for  them.  I  heard  the  little 
band  playing  a  funeral  march  at  3  p.  m.,  and  knew  that  an 
image  of  Christ  in  a  coffin  was  being  taken  from  the  church  and 
borne  on  men's  shoulders  through  the  streets,  and  that  Mary's 
doleful  image  dressed  in  black  was  carried  behind  it,  and  that 
men,  women,  and  children  would  be  straggling  along  behind 
their  poor  idols.  Some  one  has  told  me  since  that  the  tre- 
mendous downpour  of  rain  came  on  just  as  they  left  the  little 
church.  "  Never  mind,"  the  priest  said,  "  it  is  the  devil  who 
sends  this  water.  It  will  give  nobody  a  cold.  Do  not  be 
afraid.  Even  if  the  sick  should  walk  in  the  procession  the}) 
"Dfould  be  made  "well." 

Not  a  street-cry  was  allowed  all  that  day.     Even  the  poor 


Child    of    the    Sea U05j^ 

sweets-sellers  from  the  confectioner's  were  hushed,  and  no  milk 
was  brought  in  from  the  country,  in  the  afternoon.  Guards 
were  posted  to  see  that  the  stores  were  kept  closed!  For  two 
days,  Thursday  and  Friday,  even  the  bell  was  not  rung  at  the 
chapel  door;  instead,  the  hideous  rattling  of  the  metraca  was 
dinned  into  our  ears  at  the  required  intervals  for  prayer.  Lit- 
tle F heard  the  priest  tell  the  boy  manipulating  the  huge 

rattle  to  carry  it  to  the  americanas  house  and  rattle  it  outside 
"  to  make  her  angry."  A  sad  fact  is  that  I  did  spring  to  my 
feet,  inside,  racked  in  every  nerve  by  the  senseless  din,  but  I 
only  peeped  through  the  shutters,  and  kept  as  still  as  a  mouse 
on  guard,  until  the  horde  of  rude  boys  were  tired  and  went 
away.      That  was  on  Thursday. 

A  young  farmer  who  sells  me  a  pint  of  milk  morning  and 
afternoon,  was  in  tovm  early  that  day,  but  learning  that  no 
milk  was  allowed  to  be  sold  in  tovm  in  the  afternoon,  he 
climbed  the  mountain  back  to  his  little  farm,  and  milked  his 
cow  for  me,  and  then  plodded  back  with  milk  for  my  supper — 
and  for  himself  what  was  left  of  the  church  functions!  Such 
an  anemic,  tired-looking  man  he  was.  It  makes  me  indignant 
to  hear  Porto  Ricans  carelessly  classed  as  "  self-seeking  "  and 
"  shiftless." 

Yesterday  morning,  Saturday,  I  was  visiting  in  a  house 
when  at  10  o'clock  several  pistol-shots  were  fired,  ushering  in 
the  "  Gloria."  The  church-bell  began  to  ring,  and  the  gloom 
was  past. 

"  But  Jesus  rose  on  the  third  day  after  the  crucifixion,  not 
on  Saturday  the  second,"  I  remarked  to  the  man  of  the  house, 
as  we  listened.  He  laughed,  and  in  explanation  could  only 
say  that  he  supposed  a  good  thing  was  doubtless  made  better 
by  being  doubled  in  quantity  and  that,  for  that  reason,  Satur- 
day is  celebrated  as  well  as  Sunday,  and  so  becomes  a  fore- 
taste of  the  joys  of  resurrection  day.      All   the  shops  were 


[106] Child    of    the    Sea 

thrown  open  at  once,  and  I  wondered — anyhow,  I  was  able  to 
purchase  some  needed  groceries! 

April  11.  1901. 

The  United  States  mail  which  reached  Adjuntas  tonight 
brings,  among  others,  a  letter  from  a  lady  in  far-away  Michi- 
gan, asking  for  a  missionary-letter  by  April  9,  day  before  yes- 
terday!     Two  from  Ponce  tell  of  the  death  of  C ,  the 

first  of  all  the  church  there  to  die. 

Sunday,  April  14,  1901. 

At  4  o'clock  this  afternoon,  I  walked  down  the  long  street 
called  Canas,  leading  out  of  town  and  down  the  river,  to  the 
string  of  huts  along  the  road.  Here  live  many  families  of 
anemic  people,  who  have  drifted  in  from  the  country  and 
mountain  byways,  since  the  hurricane.  The  men  are  out  of 
regular  work,  and  one  hardly  sees  how  they  live.  I  chatted 
with  a  couple  whose  children  were  clean  and  neatly  patched. 
Others  gathered,  and  right  there  in  the  road,  I  opened  a  Sunday 
School!  The  men  and  women  and  little  ones  crouched  on 
the  ground,  on  a  palm-log,  about  me  on  the  door-step,  any- 
where. Such  denseness  of  ignorance  as  to  the  Way,  the 
Truth,  and  the  Life  I  have  never  found  anywhere  in  our  dear 
Island.  But  an  awakening  of  interest  showed  in  their  intent 
faces,  and,  before  I  left,  several  of  my  congregation  had  learned 
the  name  of  God's  book,  la  Biblia,  and  to  repeat,  "  Christ 
Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners  " — the  faltering 
tongues  repeating  the  Spanish  text  after  me.  And  the  children 
learned  a  verse  of  Aunque  so'^  pequenuelo,  "  Although  I  am  a 
little  child,"  usually  the  first  hymn  I  teach  children. 

One  woman,  with  a  strong  kind  face  held  a  very  dirty, 
shock-haired,  naked  little  boy  on  her  lap.  When  I  wrote  the 
names  of  the  children  in  my  little  book,  which  charmed  them 


Child    of    the    Sea [107]^ 

mightily,  I  told  the  mother  that  I  was  not  going  to  ask  her  little 
boy's  name  then;  that  next  Sunday,  I  would  come  again,  and 
if  her  baby  were  bathed  and  had  on  a  bit  of  a  dress  or  shirt,  I 
would  write  down  his  name  too  in  my  book. 

These  poor  people  say  they  are  too  forlorn  and  poor  to  come 
to  the  mission  in  town.     At  first,  therefore,  I  must  go  to  them. 

Sunday,  April  21.  1901. 

I  hied  me  through  Canas  this  p.  m.  to  the  river  and  the  new 
Sunday  School.  The  sun  blazed.  One  of  last  week's  boys 
joined  me  on  the  way.  He  remembered  the  verse,  Cristo  Jesus 
vino  al  mundo  para  salvar  a  los  pecadores.  He  said  he  re- 
membered "  the  other  thing  too,  the  Piblia."  I  had  tried  to 
teach  them  all  the  name  we  give — la  Biblia — to  the  Scriptures, 
and  even  some  of  the  grown  men  had  pronounced  the  strange, 
unmeaning  word  with  difficulty. 

All  were  ready,  waiting  for  me.  Twenty  or  more  sat  in  the 
shade  of  the  house  as  before,  and  behind  me  sitting  in  the  door- 
way a  fire  smoked  and  smouldered  under  a  pot  on  a  bank  of 
earth  inside  the  hut.  The  men  were  all  there,  and  a  smiling 
woman  came  forward  leading  a  nice  little  boy  by  the  hand. 
A  laugh  went  around — good  to  hear  from  those  serious  beings 
— when  I  asked  her  for  the  other  child  of  last  Sunday.  *'  That 
is  he,"  men  and  all  chorused  with  glee.  Not  only  was  he 
bathed,  barbered,  and  dressed,  but  he  was  so  pretty  and  shyly 
smiling  that  I  had  not  recognized  the  grimy  naked  baby  of  the 
week  before.  The  mother  also  was  combed  and  tidy  and 
beaming  with  triumph.  The  little  one's  dress,  poor  tot!  was 
made  of  a  scrap  of  ivhite,  barred  mosquito-netling,  which 
merely  veiled  the  youngster's  dusky  nakedness,  but  it  was  a 
dress  and  clean.  At  once  his  name,  Juanito,  went  down  in 
my  note-book  to  the  universal  gratification. 


[108] Child    of    the    Sea 

What  an  hour  followed  there  by  the  roadside,  under  the 
bright  blue  sky!  Every  one  knew  the  verse  of  last  Sunday, 
from  rough  men  down  to  shy  little  Rosa.  Then  came  the 
lesson-story,  to  which  the  men  listened  as  intently  as  the  chil- 
dren. Their  deep  voices,  murmuring  the  children's  hymn  after- 
ward— "  Although  I  am  a  little  child  " — went  to  my  heart 
with  a  pathos  that  almost  broke  me  down.  The  elders  re- 
ceived their  picture-cards  with  as  much  eagerness  as  the  chil- 
dren did,  and  the  one  who  can  read  promised  to  teach  to  the 
others  the  verse  pasted  on  all  of  the  cards. 

"  Does  she  not  sing  beautifully?  "  Juanito's  mother  whis- 
pered to  another  woman,  as  my  poor  weak  voice  quavered  out 
the  "  Aunque  "  and  she  beamed  upon  me.  How  little  one 
really  gives,  to  receive  so  much  in  return  as  these  simple  and 
sincere  mountain  people  offer,  but  they  have  my  heart! 

[The  mother  of  Juanlto  and  her  husband  were  afterward 
baptized,  and  several  others  were  induced  to  attend  the  mission 
in  town.] 

April  22,  1901. 

Note:  Apropos  of  last  night's  chapel  music:  How  can  I 
teach  these  children  of  the  mission  to  sing  with  spirit  and  yet 
not  bawl? 

April  28,  1901. 

Our  dear  old  brother,  Don  B.,  from  the  Giant's  left  cheek, 
was  at  the  mission  this  morning  for  the  first  time  for  many 
weeks.  He  is  very  infirm.  His  weakness  appeals  to  my 
sjonpathies,  but  the  bad  children  giggled  outright  at  his  mum- 
bled words  of  prayer.  He  says  he  loves  God  and  that  he 
has  not  ceased  to  worship  him,  at  home.  [He  died  later  on, 
in  Ponce,  after  long  infirmity  and  at  an  advanced  age.] 

To  the  roadside  class  in  the  afternoon.      Fifteen  were  wait- 


Child    of    the    Sea [109]^ 

ing,  each  with  his  card  cleanly  wrapped  in  a  bit  of  brown 
paper.  I  talked  of  God's  love,  of  Jesus'  life  and  death,  of 
his  seeking  the  lost — as  Ignacia  herself  would  seek  the  little 
straying  chicken  from  her  brood  over  there;  as  Rosita  would 
look  for  a  precious  lost  cent,  and  be  glad  on  finding  it. 

Still  malarial,  and  again  dosed  by  Luisa.  This  particular 
tea  must  be  taken  in  the  early  mornings,  after  having  been 
exposed  in  an  open  pitcher  to  the  dew,  all  night.  The  dew 
is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  draught's  efficacy! 

May  2.  1901. 

The  new  month  came  in  with  tempestuous  wind  from  the 
south,  which,  the  knowing  say,  means  that  the  rains  are  at  hand. 
Late  last  night,  I  watched  gigantic  masses  of  snow-white  vapor 
driven  by  the  south  wind  up  from  the  sea,  come  pouring  like 
volumes  of  smoke  over  the  mountaintops,  and  streaming  across 
our  valley.  I  sat  on  my  porch  alone,  wrapped  in  rugs,  until 
chilled  to  the  bone,  but  warmed  to  the  heart  by  the  shining  of 
the  heavens  and  earth  by  night. 

May  is  the  month  of  roses  and  also  of  Mary,  la  santisima 
Madre  de  Dios,  "  the  most  holy  Mother  of  God."  So,  there 
are  to  be  functions  in  her  honor  every  night,  in  the  roadside 
chapel,  her  image  now  glittering  with  lights  and  finery. 

Today,  Manuela  and  I  have  been  doing  housecleaning  in 
the  mission  hall,  a  little  more  thoroughly  than  the  boy-sexton 
does  it.  A  new  text,  in  large  letters  of  blue  blotting-paper 
adorning  the  whitewashed  wall,  exhorts  us  to  make  a  "  joyful 
noise  unto  God,"  in  singing  forth  the  glory  of  his  name.  How 
our  people  do  love  to  make  joyful  noises  in  singing  forth ! 

A  small  hut  of  palm-bark  stands  on  a  ridge  rising  behind 
the  street  of  Canas.      To  reach  it,  this  afternoon,  I  had  (o 


[110] Child    of    the    Sea 

thread  my  way  among  huts  hke  it,  crowded  together,  and  creep 
through  bushes  and  over  beds  of  refuse  plantain-skins,  and  then 
chmb  the  ridge  to  the  foot  of  the  royal  palm  tree.  The  hut 
nestles  in  the  sunshine  close  under  the  palm's  plimiy  crest, 

against  its  shapely  gray  stem.     Our  P ,  the  carpenter, 

now  lives  here  with  his  bright-eyed  family  of  pretty  wife  and 
children.  I  entered  the  hut  with  the  last  level  beams  of  the 
sun.  They  were  surprised  when  I  cut  off  the  light  by  stepping 
in   past   the   doorway,    for   they   had  not   heard   my   knock. 

P was  reading  aloud  to  H resting  in  the  hammock, 

as  she  is  feeble  just  now.     The  small  black  book  in  P 's 

hand  was  well  worn  with  much  reading.  *'  Now  that  Dona 
Juanita  has  come,  ask  her  about  the  Sunday  School  chapter  we 
were  studying.      Read  it  again,"  the  wife  suggested. 

So  P turned  to  Matthew  24.     He  reads  remarkably 

well.  Every  now  and  then,  as  he  read  aloud,  he  lifted  his 
face  and  gave  me  a  comprehending  glance  from  his  earnest 
brown  eyes.  Two  other  times,  he  sighed  with  satisfaction. 
Once,  he  exclaimed:  "What  a  wonder  of  language!  How 
much  the  Lord  says  in  these  two  or  three  words! 

I  gave  them  a  little  help  in  understanding  the  interwoven 

prophecies  of  the  chapter,  and  P 's  soul  seemed  fairly  to 

feed  on  the  wonderful  words.      [Automatically,  as  it  were, 

P^ has  come  to  be  leader  of  the  Sunday  School  and 

teacher  of  the  class  of  adults.] 

I  thought  as  I  came  away  down  the  shabby  street,  that  the 
home  of  one  such  man  or  woman  who  searches  the  Scriptures, 
must  be  a  center  of  radiation  for  the  true  Light  which  lights  the 
world. 

May  3,  1901. 

The  first  downpour  of  the  rainy  season  today.  Everybody 
rejoices,  for  while  we  do  not  have  in  the  mountains  the  choking 


Child    of    the    Sea [UU 

dust  of  the  city  streets,  the  hills  have  grown  brown  and  gardens 

have  languished  in  spite  of  the  dewy  nights.      Pretty  P^ 

called,  just  as  the  shower  descended,  looking  like  a  picture- 
girl,  w^th  her  dark  eyes  and  beautiful  hair,  and  dressed  in  a 
simple  frock  of  pink  gingheun,  instead  of  the  usual  finery  of  the 
young  ladies  of  Adjuntas  when  visiting.  When  I  am  with  one 
of  these  dainty  girls  of  our  Island,  my  heart  longs  to  make  her 
see  the  beauty  of  a  life  devoted  joyfully  to  Christ,  of  a  religion 
meaning  more  than  a  stepping  inside  of  a  church  for  prayer 
before — if  not  actually  to — a  saint's  image,  and  more  than  the 
keeping  of  feast-days. 

Afterward,  a  woman  told  me  of  having  sent  her  five  boys 
out  into  the  shower,  as  the  first  rain  of  May,  ushering  in  the 
welcome  rainy  season,  is  considered  highly  salutary.  I  have 
no  doubt  it  is  when  applied  as  a  bath.  The  little  boys  were 
shining  clean  afterward,  and  all  wore  clean  shirts. 

The  new  priest  who  has  been  sent  to  Adjuntas,  is  said  to 
be  more  devoto  and  active  than  the  other.  Certainly  his  slim, 
cadaverous  body  and  serious  young  face  are  very  different  from 
the  other's  stout,  red-faced  coarseness.  Is  he  for  or  against 
the  Christ  as  only  Saviour?  Does  he  know  him?  To  what 
purpose  will  his  energy  be  spent? 

Sunday,  May  5,  1901. 

Snow-white  showers  veiled  the  mountains  at  half  past  three 
p.  m.,  and  then  a  strong,  sweet-breathed  wind  brought  them 
down  to  us,  and  torrents  of  rain  poured.  The  shower  held  up 
for  a  little,  and  with  rubbers,  raincoat,  and  umbrella,  I  started 
down  the  river  road  for  the  Sunday  School.  People  stared 
whimsically  from  doorways.  Why  should  a  lady  be  out  in 
the  wet?  And  see,  what  great  ugly  feet  and  short  skirts  she 
has! 


[112]  Child    of    the    Sea 

I  found  a  roomful  of  men  and  women,  with  children  sand- 
wiched in  between.  From  a  low  hammock  of  sacking,  I 
taught  the  lesson  of  the  son's  return  to  his  father's  house.  In 
another  hammock  sat  a  man  whose  face  showed  serious  and 
searching,  through  the  gloom.  Most  were  sitting  on  the  floor, 
and  while  the  rain  poured  outside  and  the  fire  smoldered  and 
smoked  on  the  floor,  we  were  safe  and  dry  within.  They  knew 
their  verses,  and  they  are  really  learning  to  sing.  We  talked 
of  how  one  may  speak  with  God  from  one's  own  heart,  with- 
out fine  words  of  another's  speech,  and  that  that  is  prayer, 
whether  in  church  or  in  the  cafetal  (coffee-plantation)  or  at 
home.  Simple  affectionate  creatures  they  are,  with  a  natural 
courtesy  one  hardly  finds  in  the  same  class  of  people  of  the  far 
North.  They  have  "  good  manners  "  with  all  their  uncon- 
ventionality.  If  nothing  else,  these  untaught  roadside  dwellers 
are  learning  that  there  is  a  book  called  la  Biblia,  which  gives 
God's  message  to  men,  in  human  speech,  and  which  tells  us 
truly  what  he  is  and  how  he  loves.  And  they  are  learning  bits 
of  the  message. 

One  big  boy  wore,  this  afternoon,  an  old  felt  hat  and  a 
man's  long,  woven  undershirt — nothing  else.  This  reaches  to 
his  heels,  and  is  getting  more  soiled  and  ragged  as  the  days 
pass,  as  he  has  worn  it  to  our  school  for  three  Sundays  already. 
Others  are  in  mere  fringes  of  garments.  How  to  clothe  them 
all! 

The  young  Porto  Rican  came  again  from  Ponce  for  last 
night's  and  today's  mission  services,  as  he  preaches  very  accept- 
ably to  his  people.  Some  day  every  church  will  have  its  pas- 
tor, as  men  may  give  themselves  to  such  work.  Tonight,  little 
Antonio  was  intent  upon  dissecting  a  bug — a  changa,  pestifer- 
ous jumping  beast — and  a  bat  diverted  all  the  boys,  but  there 
was  no  disturbance  that  had  to  be  reproved  from  behind  the 
organ. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [113] 


May  8.  1901. 

I  wish  small  beggars  at  my  door  were  not  quite  so  small, 
and  so  many.  All  seem  to  be  of  about  the  same  size!  I 
hear  a  rattling  of  the  door-shutters,  and  then  see  long  black 
hair  blowing  in  the  wind  and  bright  black  eyes  shining  just  at 
the  lowest  slat  outside!  How  can  I  refuse  to  give  "A  little 
scrap  of  codfish,  Senora,"  "  una  chispita,"  a  wee  spark  "  of 
sugar,  for  the  love  of  God  and  of  his  most  holy  Mother  "? 
Because  these  little  ones'  are  sometimes  messengers  of  hearty 
parents  sent  to  impose  on  the  very  rich  americana  living  in  the 
big  house.  Because  I  cannot  give  to  all,  or  there  would  be 
an  unending  stream  of  youngsters  at  my  house-doors,  and  be- 
cause I  must  give  to  some  known  to  be  destitute  or  dying. 
Because  some  whine  and  persist,  while  others  steal  meekly 
away. 

May  9,  1901. 

It  is  now  late  bedtime.  I  have  been  watching  the  cucubanos, 
large  "  bugs  "  flying  among  the  rose-trees,  carrying  two  beauti- 
ful, green  searchlights,  blazing  in  their  heads.  I  brought  one 
inside  and  put  it  under  a  glass  in  my  dark  room,  and  it  faintly 
lighted  the  corner  where  it  was.  But  the  light  paled,  and  I 
set  the  little  prisoner  free.  Then  Juana,  who  has  been  cooking 
for  Luisa,  sick  for  a  few  days,  came  tapping  at  my  front 
door  to  say  that  she  had  left  two  potatoes  in  the  kitchen  and 
she  was  afraid  a  hungry  rat  might  break  the  saucer  they  were 
in,  so  she  had  come  all  the  way  back  from  her  house  to  tell  me. 
What  faithfulness  in  little! 


[il4]  Child    of    the    Sea 


XI 

Here,  the  free  spirit  of  mankind,  at  length 
Throws  its  last  fetters  off;   ... 


Far,  like  the  comet's  way  through  infinite  space. 
Stretches  the  long,  untraveled  path  of  light 
Into  the  depths  of  ages:   we  may  trace 
Distant,  the  brightening  glory  of  its  light. 
Till  the  receding  rays  are  lost  to  human  sight. 

— Bryant. 


Adjuntas,  p.  R., 
May  23,  1901. 

LAST  evening,  ten  of  the  '*  brethren  "  came  for  their 
study  of  the  last  chapter  of  Luke  in  my  sola.  Now,  we 
shall  begin  the  Acts,  and,  when  I  leave,  they  will  go  on 
with  it  in  their  Sunday's  study.  To  stay  with  them  and  the 
eighty  or  ninety  little  souls,  so  faithful  in  the  classes,  would  be 
my  choice,  if  there  were  no  other  side  to  the  question  of  stay- 
ing or  going.  There  is  another,  however,  the  Ponce  side,  and 
besides,  it  is  good  for  the  churches  to  walk  alone  now  and 
then. 

Monday,  May  27,  1901. 

A  box  of  gifts  for  the  children  has  come  from  friends  in 
Massachusetts,  and  it  was  finally  brought  up  to  Adjuntas.  So, 
on  Saturday  morning,  seventy-five  children,  with  a  few  grown- 
up friends,  came  to  my  Casa  Grande  for  a  little  fiesta.  No 
one  had  an  idea  beforehand  of  the  gift-giving,  and  we  went 


Child    of    the    Sea [115] 

through  with  our  program  of  recitations  and  songs  before  the 
Hfting  of  the  curtain  which  hid  the  table  covered  with  the  pret- 
tiest of  sewing-bags,  dolls,  tops,  etc.  Long,  low  sighs  and  little 
giggles  of  laughter  greeted  the  sight  of  the  great  Surprise. 
More  perfect  behavior,  such  joy  and  satisfaction  I  never  saw  at 
a  gift-giving.  Certainly  these  mission  children  are  not  yet 
"  pauperized."  While  it  showered,  I  let  them  run  and  play  i)i 
the  long  porches,  and  was  at  last  able  to  get  them  to  be  still 
long  enough  to  be  photographed  in  a  group,  with  the  help  of 

Mr.  W and  Mr.  M of  the  cigar-factory.     The  sun 

came  out  at  just  the  right  instant  for  the  picture.  It  would 
have  overjoyed  the  givers'  hearts  to  have  seen  those  happy  ones 
who  have  very  little  of  childish  joy  in  their  every-day  lives. 

The  aftermath  for  me  was  not  joy-giving.  All  the  after- 
noon, in  sunshine  and  shower,  my  front  porch  was  besieged  by 
the  infancy  of  the  town  coming  by  twos  and  threes  to  beg  for 
una  cosita,  a  little  something.  Some  were  repenting  young 
backsliders,  others  I  had  never  seen  nor  heard  of,  before.  Still 
others  were  brought  new  by  the  soft-hearted  blessed  receivers.  .  . 
To  all,  I  explained  that  the  gifts  were  sent  by  Sunday  School 
children  in  the  North  to  the  Sunday  School  children  in  Ad- 
juntas  who  had  been  studying  "  God's  Word  "  so  faithfully 
in  the  mission  classes.  A  small  procession,  nevertheless,  fol- 
lowed me  beseeching,  when  I  finally  got  out  on  the  street. 
Well  I  knew  the  purpose  forming  in  those  infant  minds. 

So,  when  I  entered  the  warehouse  the  next  day,  yesterday 
morning,  for  Sunday  School,  I  was  quite  prepared  to  see,  with 
the  sunshine  streaming  in  at  the  open  doors,  streams  of  children 
also  entering.  Along  with  forty  or  fifty  new  and  "  backslid- 
ing," the  old  faithful  ones  were  out  in  full  force  as  usual — a 
grand  Sunday  School !  It  gratified  me  to  see  the  little  regulars 
out  in  force,  for,  having  their  gifts  in  security,  they  might  have 
stayed  away  to  witness  the  marriage  of  the  Senora  C 's 


[116] Child    of    the    Sea 

niece,  to  which  the  town  has  been  looking  forward  for  months. 
The  hour  set  for  the  bridal  procession  to  the  little  Roman 
Catholic  church  was  1 0  o'clock,  just  when  we  should  all  be  in 
our  old  warehouse  culto.  Happily,  the  hour  was  deferred, 
and  as  we  came  away  from  the  mission,  virtue  was  rewarded, 
for  all  had  a  glimpse  of  the  pretty  bride  in  white,  returning 
from  the  church,  and  a  chance  at  the  luck-pennies  thrown  from 
the  balcony  into  the  street  among  the  clamoring  children,  rich 
and  poor,  young  and  old. 

At  night,  young  M drew  a  pretty  lesson  for  the  chil- 
dren of  the  mission,  from  the  seed  I  am  leaving  with  some  of 
them;  they  are  to  plant  and  to  have  fresh  seed  for  me  by  the 
time  I  return  to  them,  next  year. 

A  child  brought  a  posy  of  "  new  "  flowers,  saying  she  found 
them  growing  about  the  old  military  stables  where  our  cavalry 
horses  were  kept.  Did  I  know  the  name  of  them?  she  asked. 
What  should  they  be  but  red-clover  blooms,  a  "  flower  "  not 
known  in  Porto  Rico!  Of  course  the  seed  had  been  among 
the  hay  or  grain  fed  to  the  horses  of  our  men  last  year. 

Today,  I  am  cutting  out  a  red-and-green  plaid  frock  for 
Juanita.  She  is  like  one  of  the  sunbeams  that  shine  into  Doiia 
Clara's  kitchen  through  the  knot-holes,  and  slant  across  the 
dense  wood  smoke — rather  a  dusty  beam  is  she,  but  so  full  of 
cheer  that  even  in  her  dirt  and  rags  she  is  positively  charming. 

May  31.  1901. 

It  rained  heavily  yesterday.  I  spent  the  morning  making  a 
white  cotton  burial  gown  for  poor  Maria  who  was  dying.  I 
had  promised  her  she  should  have  it.  A  neighbor  helped  me, 
and  it  was  soon  finished. 

Juanita  was  here  for  her  dinner,  and  it  rained  so  hard,  and 
the  river  roared  so  loud,  that  I  did  not  want  her  to  go  home,  as 


Child    of    the    Sea [H?] 

she  has  to  ford  the  river  down  below  the  town.  But  nothing 
short  of  physical  force  could  have  kept  the  eager  child — with 
her  arms  full  of  treasures,  the  new  dress,  a  doll,  scraps  of  cloth, 
rice.  The  sun  came  out  for  a  while,  so  leaving  her  armful  of 
wood,  she  flew  off,  promising  to  come  back  if  the  river  would 
not  let  her  cross.  She  was  hardly  out  of  the  house  before  I 
realized  that  so  young  a  child  could  not  judge  of  danger  when 
home  lay  on  the  other  side  of  a  raging  river,  and  Luisa  men- 
tioned casually  to  me  that  persons  had  been  drowned  at  that 
ford.  At  that,  I  hurried  into  raincoat,  rubbers,  and  cap,  and 
flew  after  Juanita.  Such  a  little  sprite  she  is,  that  I  did  not 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her  the  whole  way,  although  by  and  by 
meeting  those  who  had  seen  her.  Not  until  I  had  hurried  more 
than  a  mile  down  the  river  road  did  I  learn  that  she  had  been 
carried  safely  across  in  a  man's  arms. 

The  river  tore  by,  noisy  and  turgid,  as  I  toiled  homeward 
in  the  damp  breeze  which  was  chilling  and  sultry  by  turns. 

Stopping  in  to   see  if  Maria  still  lived,   I   found   P 

measuring  her  poor  emaciated  body  for  the  coffin  he  was  to 
make  of  boxes  given  at  a  store.  She  was  covered  with  rags 
and  an  old  sheet.  At  once,  I  sent  home  for  the  shroud  we 
had  made,  and  then  stayed  till  it  was  put  on,  and  the  bed 
decently  arranged.  She  was  not  professedly  one  of  "  us,"  and 
I  had  knowm  her  but  a  short  time.  Though  my  heart  sank  at 
the  sight  and  the  hearing  of  the  roomful  of  idle,  gossiping 
women,  I  said  a  few  words  of  warning  to  them,  which  I 
could  say  in  the  presence  of  the  poor,  worn-out  body  of  their 
companion.  It  is  a  bad  set  that  swarms  there,  and  Maria  is 
well  out  of  it,  I  hope — from  her  words  a  few  days  ago,  and 
from  my  knowledge  of  the  Lord. 

And,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  things  to  do,  I  have  packed 
my  trunk  today  to  be  ready  to  leave  whenever  a  carriage  comes 
up  from  Ponce.     A  young  native  "  brother  "  with  his  family 


[118]  Child    of    the    Sea 

is  to  come  and  live  in  Adjuntas,  to  be  the  mission  pastor,  so, 
this  time,  they  will  not  be  left  alone. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
August-October,    1901. 

General  Missionary  Rev.  A.  B.  Rudd  took  his  family  to 
the  States  for  their  first  vacation.  The  various  missions  were 
carried  on  with  the  aid  of  native  workers.  These  were  anxious 
times  for  me,  with  hurricanes  in  the  neighboring  islands  and 
seas,  during  one  of  the  fiercest  rain-stormy  seasons  Ponce  has 
ever  known,  with  unusual  sickness  among  our  people,  and  sev- 
eral deaths ;  with  the  stirrings  of  unrest  in  the  faith  of  some  who 
were  beginning  to  react  from  their  early,  unquestioning  confi- 
dence in  their  teachers  and  in  the  Scriptures  themselves.  Teni' 
perament,  so  to  speak,  was  taking  its  place  as  a  factor  in  the 
Christian  life  of  some  of  the  older  believers — of  only  two  years* 
standing  even  then! — but,  on  the  whole,  all  went  well.  Bless 
these  dear  babes  in  Christ!  If  one  of  them  sees  a  brother 
stumble  or  slip  or  fall,  he  thinks  he  must  run  fast,  and  set  him 
on  his  feet  hard,  jar  him  a  little. 

Mr.  McCormick  with  his  wife  and  Charlie  came  over  from 
San  Juan,  according  to  plan,  and  cheered  with  his  counsel, 
and  fortified  and  sweetened  the  spirit  of  the  little  churches. 
"  The  Work  "  has  grown  more  complicated,  with  its  extension 
into  neighboring  towns  and  the  country,  during  these  two  years. 
A  good  brother  praying  in  meeting  one  night  for  the  loved  and 
absent  missionaries,  prayed  also  that  she  who  was  left  in  charge 
might  be  made  "  more  apt,  more  faithful,  more  strong  in  her 
work."     I  like  to  have  them  to  pray  for  me! 

One  of  the  three  who  died  had  not  been  baptized  yet.  Poor 
little  Rita  at  the  Port  had  suffered  much  in  this  world  and 
needed  hope  and  rest.     A  young  widow,  having  lost  all  her 


Child    of    the    Sea [n9]_ 

little  ones,  a  pitiful,  sad  little  creature,  she  lived  in  a  cousin's 
house  and  supported  herself  sorting  tobacco  in  a  factory.  The 
tobacco-dust  further  injured  her  weakened  lungs,  so  la  grippe 
easily  ended  in  pneumonia,  and  her  last  illness  was  sharp  and 
short.  But  Rita's  trust  and  peace  were  so  beautiful  that  one 
who  was  with  her  often,  said  to  me,  "If  dying  is  like  this,  I 
should  like  to  die!  "  Once  she  said,  "  I  wish  I  might  be 
wrapped  in  a  sheet  and  carried  in  a  hammock  to  Ponce,"  for 
she  longed  to  be  baptized,  and  wanted  to  be  "  laid  in  the 
water,"  ill  as  she  was.  I  think  I  satisfied  her,  for  she  left  off 
speaking  of  baptism  and  in  a  few  days  died,  with  unclouded 
brain  and  spirit,  singing  up  to  the  very  last, 

Vo^   al   cielo,  5op  peTegrino.^ 

No  more  visits  to  Adjuntas  or  Yauco  in  these  busy  months. 

Notes 

Ponce,  P.  R.,  1902. 

An  example  of  one  of  the  ways  by  which  God  seems  to  lead 
people  to  himself,  by  ways  not  planned  by  the  missionary:  A 
"  sister  "  in  the  church  at  Ponce  had  begged  me  one  day  last 
year  to  go  to  a  relative's  house  among  the  hills  near  the  city, 
and  hold  a  cullo  there,  that  the  cousin  might  learn  of  the 
"  Word  of  God."  So,  hiring  a  carriage  and  filling  it  with 
other  "  sisters,"  we  drove  thither,  early  one  afternoon.  About 
two  miles  from  town  and  just  after  we  had  made  the  third 
crossing  of  the  Portugues  river,  which  curves  twice  thereabout, 
a  man  came  out  of  a  house  from  among  a  small  group  of 
buildings  close  to  the  river,  to  speak  with  us,  as  the  driver 
stopped  to  breathe  his  horses.      He  was  a  superior-looking, 

'Trans,  of  "I'm  a  Pilgrim  and  I'm  a  Stranger." 
I 


[120] Child    of    the   Sea 

elderly  man,  a  storekeeper.  He  told  of  his  many  children  and 
said  that  his  neighbors'  houses  also  swarmed  with  boys  and  girls, 
that  there  was  no  school  for  these,  and  was  I  not,  by  chance  one 
of  the  American  school-teachers,  who  might  have  influence  with 
the  school  board  and  get  them  to  open  a  rural  school  out  there? 
He  was  most  earnest  and  eager.  I  explained  to  him  my  spe- 
cial business  in  the  Island,  but  assured  him  that  I  would  do 
what  I  could  in  the  matter.  [Somewhat  later,  his  own  store 
was  rented  from  him  for  a  schoolhouse  and  the  teacher  pro- 
vided by  the  school  authorities.]  At  once,  on  hearing  of  our 
mission,  he  declared  that,  if  the  book  I  carried  was  like  the  one 
he  had  in  his  house,  the  gift  of  a  soldier  of  the  United  States, 
he  would  gladly  accept  my  offer  of  coming  and  at  least  teach- 
ing the  children  from  that  book.  I  went  inside  the  house  and 
showed  him  that  our  Testaments  were  the  same,  and  he  was 
delighted.  I  have  rarely  met  ans^where  a  father  more  am- 
bitious for  his  children's  education  in  the  best  things  than  was 
the  Senor  Perdomo.  The  mother  of  the  dark-eyed  brood  of 
eight  was  thin  and  pale,  refined  and  cordial. 

Our  visit  to  the  cousin's  house  farther  up  in  the  hills  yielded 
no  results  that  I  ever  heard  of,  but  on  January  28  of  this  year, 
1902,  I  held  the  first  children's  class,  in  Perdomo's  house  on 
the  river-bank.  By  that  time,  I  had  bought  a  horse — gift  of 
the  Sunday  School  of  the  North  Orange  Baptist  Church  of 
New  Jersey — and  a  low  phaeton,  and  the  first  regular  use  these 
were  put  to  was  for  driving  out  each  week  for  the  afternoon 
class  at  Portugues  in  Perdomo's  house.  A  baby-organ  al- 
ways went  along,  and  a  youth  to  drive  over  the  rough,  rocky 
road  and  the  river  fords.  Later  on,  a  room  was  rented  for  the 
mission,  and  for  many  years,  in  this  very  house. 

[After  awhile  several  of  the  country  people  who  attended 
the  classes  as  punctually  as  the  children  close  by,  were  so  deeply 
interested  that  a  preacher  was  sent  to  them  on  Sundays  for  giv- 


The  Baptist  Church  at  Ponce 


Child    of    the    Sea  [121] 

ing  further  instruction.  Later,  two  or  three  famiHes  of  these 
joined  the  big  church  in  towTi.  The  dear  mother  of  the  chil- 
dren was  happily  brought  to  see  more  Hght  than  her  rosary  and 
her  cross  had  given  her,  and  was  baptized  in  Ponce  some 
months  before  her  Christian  death.  After  a  few  months  of  the 
mission's  work  in  the  district  it  was  said  by  a  poHce  official,  as 
was  said  in  those  days  of  other  places  as  well,  that,  as  certain 
men  in  Portugues  had  changed  their  manner  of  living,  under 
the  influence  of  the  "  new  doctrine,"  it  was  no  longer  necessary 
to  send  out  the  rural  police  to  the  country  store  on  Saturday 
nights  to  preserve  order! 

Twelve  years  afterward,  when  the  rented  house  had  fallen 
into  disrepair,  "  ten  or  twelve  members  who  live  in  that  neigh- 
borhood, out  of  their  deep  poverty  gathered  together  $25."  ^ 
The  Ponce  Church  aided  with  $35,  other  collections  brought 
the  sum  to  $  1  65 ,  with  which  a  neat  chapel  was  built  at  Por- 
tugues. ] 

November  28,  1902. 

Our  large,  beautiful  new  church  on  Victoria  and  Bertoli 
streets  was  dedicated  tonight.  Tomorrow,  delegates  from  our 
own  twelve  churches  now  existing  in  the  north  and  the  south  of 
the  Island  will  meet  here  in  Ponce,  and  the  "  Association  of 
Baptist  Churches  of  Porto  Rico  "  will  be  formed.  Doctor 
Hazlewood  of  Lynn,  Mass.,  is  here  to  represent  the  Home 
Mission  Society.  He  says:  "  It  is  wonderful  to  see  you  peo- 
ple. You  are  absolutely  enthralled  by  this  work  you  are  at. 
You  can  talk  of  nothing  else,  and  I  never  saw  such  happy 
folks!  " 

Now,  the  women's  meetings  for  Bible  Study  will  be  changed 
from  the  private  house  to  the  back  room  in  the  new  church.      I 

'From  "Missions."  October,   1914,   Rev.  C.  S.   Detweiler. 


[122] Child    of    the    Sea 

can  see,  already,  that  even  that  room  is  not  going  to  hold  my 
children  on  Sundays,  and  I  am  tired  of  seeing  the  poor  things 
being  actually  stepped  on  for  want  of  room  and  of  the  little 
chairs  children  need.  Perhaps  it  is  a  valuable  by-product  of 
mission  work,  this  constant  looking  forward  to  better  equipment, 
serving  as  a  stimulus  to — hope,  at  least. 

Ponce,  P.  R.,  1903. 

Miss  Hattie  A.  Greenlaw  came  to  the  Island  to  help  with 
the  mission  in  Ponce.  We  took  a  cottage  and  kept  house  to- 
gether for  two  pleasant  years. 

Ponce,  P.  R.,  1904. 

Dr.  H.  L,  Morehouse,  Secretary  of  the  New  York  Board, 
arrived  on  a  tour  of  inspection  of  our  Island  missions,  in  Jan- 
uary, and  stopped  for  supper  in  our  "  little,  brown  house," 
after  a  trip  among  the  villages.  It  was  a  happy  experience  for 
me  to  drive  him  in  the  phaeton  to  the  mission  in  Portugues. 
The  brethren  out  there  had  built  a  thatched  shed  with  open 
sides  and  stationary  benches  on  a  vacant  lot,  by  that  time,  and 
Doctor  Morehouse  photographed  the  Friday  afternoon  "  Sun- 
day School  "  standing  outside  of  the  shed.  He  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  country  folks  and  our  rustic  quarters,  especially  the 
outdoors  singing  of  the  children. 

The  little  chapel  at  Corral  Viejo  in  the  hills,  a  few  miles 
out  from  Ponce  on  the  Adjuntas  road,  was  dedicated  during 
the  visit  of  Doctor  Morehouse.  Mrs.  G.  S.  Harwood  of 
Newton,  Mass.,  gave  the  money  for  this  mountain  chapel.  It 
is  built  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  road,  with  the  mountain  falling 
away  behind  from  the  very  floor  into  a  ravine  reaching  down  to 
the  river.  The  mountain  people  are  very  happy  in  their  roomy 
chapel,  and  cpme  toiling  down  the  trails  to  meeting,  through  sun 


Child    of    the    Sea        im 

and  rain,  day  or  night.  This,  our  first  mountain  chapel,  seems 
a  beacon-Hght  in  the  midst  of  the  rugged,  monotonous  life  of 
those  dreary  slopes  and  crevasses. - 

^  Later  the  young  ladies  of  the  Newton  Church  gave  a  bell  for  the 
chapel,  a  very  welcome  gift  for  the  reminding  of  those  who  had  neither 
clock  nor  watch. 


[124]  Child    of    the    Sea 


XII 

Where'er  thy  wildered  crowd  of  brethren  jostles. 

Where'er  there  lingers  but  a  shade  of  wrong. 
There  still  is  need  of  martyrs  and  apostles, 
There  still  are  texts  for  never-dying  song. 

— Lowell. 


COAMO,  P.  R., 
February  23.    1904. 

OLD  Speckle,  my  latest  horse,  brought  Miss  Green- 
law and  me  the  twenty  miles  to  Coamo  on  Saturday. 
There  is  no  hotel  in  the  town,  so  a  "  brother  in  the 
faith  "  found  us  a  room  in  a  lodging-house  on  the  main  street. 
Inside,  the  house  resembles  an  ancient  bam,  and  one  stares 
straight  up  into  the  sloping  zinc  roof  overhead.  We  stepped 
directly  off  the  sidewalk  into  the  one  huge  room  and  found  a 
table  set  in  the  middle  space,  while  sleeping-rooms  were  parti- 
tioned off,  on  the  side,  by  low  stationary  screens.  Above,  the 
smoky,  cobwebby,  high-gabled  roof  stretches  over  the  whole. 
All  night,  we  can  hear  gentle  breathing  around  us,  but  not  all 
the  breathing  is  gentle!  We  have  tall  canvas  cots  and  a  chair 
apiece,  the  sheets  are  clean,  and  the  toilet  arrangements  the 
most  primitive  I  have  yet  seen  in  the  Island. 

Old  Speckle  is  stabled  and  pastured  at  a  very  small  ranch, 
on  the  edge  of  the  town.  Near  the  gate  to  this  place,  a  poor 
paralytic  has  a  sleeping-place  by  the  roadside — a  mere  roof  of 
palm-bark  laid  across  four  poles  set  in  the  ground,  and  just 
large  enough  to  cover  his  old  hammock  swung  more  like  a 
swing  than  a  bed.  A  waif,  without  a  home,  his  costume  is  a 
long,  white  cotton  nightshirt  and  a  straw  hat.      Day  and  night, 


Child    of    the   Sea [125] 

he  sits  near  the  roadside  in  his  canvas  swing  or  stands  support- 
ing himself  by  a  staff,  and  begs  of  passing  tourists  in  their 
coaches.  From  me  he  earns  a  cent  every  day,  thus:  When 
I  go  to  carry  Speckle  his  com,  or  to  order  the  phaeton,  the  old 
cripple  calls  out  to  the  people  in  the  house  to  tie  up  their  dog, 
as  the  americana  is  coming,  and  he  receives  the  cent  gravely 
and  graciously.  Poor,  squalid  fellow!  Yet  he  seems  to  like 
his  life  in  the  open,  and  I  suppose  he  would  scorn  the  more 
civilized  comforts  of  an  indigents'  home  for  instance,  perhaps 
with  reason. 

Sunday  was  a  busy  day  in  the  rented  warehouse,  or  store- 
room (of  course) ,  of  the  mission  here.  It  seems  a  faithful  little 
church.  Though  I  was  here  for  a  day  or  two  at  the  time  of 
the  first  baptisms  in  the  river,  months  ago,  it  has  not  been  pos- 
sible to  come  for  "  a  mission  "  among  the  women  and  children, 
as  Roman  Catholic  priests  call  their  transient  stays  in  visits  to 
far-away  places  for  baptisms,  confessions,  and  mass. 

Miss  G.  returned  to  Ponce  this  a.  m.  in  the  posting-stage. 
Ants  swarming  over  my  cot  had  kept  me  awake  until  after 
midnight,  and  at  four  we  were  up,  although  it  was  half  past 
five  before  she  was  off,  in  the  damp,  sultry  dark. 

February  24,  1904. 

*'  This  new  faith  in  Christ  makes  me  feel  young  again," 
said  Dona  A to  me,  yesterday. 

*'  When  they  give  me  nicknames  because  I  am  a  Christian, 
it  seems  to  me  a  gracia   [a  grace],  and  I  only  laugh,  without 

minding,"   R says.      And  I   think  of  counting  it  *'  all 

joy  "  when  trouble  threatens,  for  His  sake. 

Mr.  McCormick  writes  me  that  by  March  our  long-needed 
church  newspaper  will  see  the  light.  The  name  of  the  paper 
is  to  be  El  Evangelisla,  and  Mr.  McC.  is  editor-in-chief.     First 


[126] Child    of    the    Sea 

things,  whether  converts,  baptisms,  churches,  or  newspapers  are 
of  untold  interest  to — first  missionaries ! 


February  27.  1904. 

It  is  interesting  to  hear  how  these  Coamo  Christians  interpret 
Hfe  in  terms  of  their  new-found  and  heartfeh  rehgion.  "  That 
happened  before  I  knew  Christ,"  says  one.  Another,  "  That 
was  what  I  used  to  think  while  still  in  the  world."  Merely 
their  own  spontaneous  way  of  expressing  their  change  of  view- 
point. 

Concha's  face  glowed  with  happy  anticipation,  yesterday,  on 
our  drive  to  the  town  of  Aibonito  farther  up  the  highway 
toward  the  crest  of  the  Pass.  For  she  was  telling  me  of  the 
relatives  she  would  see  there,  whom  she  had  not  seen  since 
giving  herself  to  Christ's  service.  How  much  she  would  have 
to  tell  them!  She  carried  her  New  Testament  and  was  with 
her  cousins  two  hours. 

It  was  a  wonderful  drive,  and  the  old  horse  covered  himself 
with  honor,  if  not  with  glory,  by  his  steady  mounting  of  the 
grades  to  the  Aibonito  Pass  on  the  old  highway  across  the 
Island.  There  are  few  more  beautiful  drives.  Near  the  sum- 
mit, we  turned  our  heads  to  see  the  Caribbean  Sea,  many  miles 
away  to  the  south,  softly  blue;  and,  below  the  blue-veiled 
guarding  peaks  all  around,  the  deep  valleys  showed  fold  on 
fold  of  green  slopes,  in  sunshine  and  shadow.  Tiny  thatched 
huts  snuggled  among  the  plantains  on  the  lower  hillsides,  while 
round  and  round  upward  wound  our  white  road  until  it 
reached  Aibonito,  eighty-seven  kilometers  from  Ponce. 

While  C.  visited  her  friends,  I  lunched  with  mine,  who 
were  occupying  temporary  but  delightfully  breezy  quarters  in 
the  old  barracks,  and  Speckle  trailed  his  tired  heels  in  Mr. 
S 's  green  pasture. 


Child    of    the    Sea l}27]^ 

A  weary  trio  returned  to  Coamo  at  6  p.  m.,  and  after 
Speckle  had  been  cared  for,  I  crawled  into  my  cot,  and  lay 
reading  Thomas  Carlyle's  Life,  by  the  light  of  a  feeble  tallow 
candle,  to  rest  me  before  sleep  would  come. 

I  have  rarely  seen  anywhere  else  such  devotion  of  spirit  as 
these  people  of  **  Ours  "  here  in  Coamo  show,  for  helping 
others  up  out  of  the  darkness  and  for  learning,  themselves,  of 
Christ.  Is  there,  perhaps,  a  note  of  fanaticism  in  their  entire 
absorption  in  this  new  interest  that  has  touched  their  lives? 

Sunday,  February  28,  1 904. 

Today,  after  morning  Bible  School  and  a  good  lunch  in 
old  Valentina's  inn,  Juanito  and  I,  accompanied  by  the  native 
pastor  on  horseback,  drove  out  to  a  country-house  for  a  culto. 

We  found  few  grown  folks  at  the  house  besides  Don  T 's 

family,  but  there  were  fifteen  children  gathered  from  somewhere 
— always  there  are  the  blessed  children. 

From  the  doorway  I  counted  more  than  fifty  little  dwellings 
scattered  about  the  neighborhood,  and  there  was  a  lovely  view 
of  sky  and  sea  and  valley  and  mountains.  All  the  world 
seemed  steeped  in  blue,  at  that  hot  hour  of  the  afternoon.  As 
we  had  had  to  leave  the  phaeton  when  the  road  ended,  and 
plod  across  parched  fields  and  along  lanes  fenced  in  with  the 
thorny  may^a,  and  at  last  came  upon  a  gaunt,  gray  hog  asleep 
under  a  tamarind  tree  close  by  the  house,  the  beautiful  view 
from  the  doorway  came  upon  me  as  a  great  surprise. 

For  many  years  Don  T has  been  known  as  the  most 

devoted  rezador — pray-er  of  Roman  Catholic  prayers — of 
all  the  district,  and  he  told  us  today,  with  all  frankness,  of  his 
vow  made  years  ago,  to  pray  to  and  serve  a  certain  image  of 
San  Antonio — not  for  a  few  years  but  to  the  end  of  his  life. 


[128]  Child    of    the    Sea 

He  has  heard  the  gospel  preached,  and  the  simple  truth  is 
touching  his  heart.  "  Yet,  I  cannot  of  course  break  my  vow," 
he  says.  "  That  would  seem  to  me  a  very  wrong  thing  to 
do!  " 

When  told  of  the  sufficiency  of  the  "  one  mediator  between 
God  and  man,"  with  no  need  of  visible  adjuncts  for  appeal, 
he  replied  confidently,  "  Ah  yes,  that  is  so,  but  the  Cross! 
making  the  sign  with  his  fingers,  "  To  me  it  seems  the  right 
and  worthy  thing  to  do  on  rising  in  the  morning  to  cast  one's 
eyes  upon  the  sign  of  Christ's  sufferings  for  us  and  to  impress 
it  upon  one's  forehead  and  breast! 

Don  T is  simple,  frank,  genuine.     May  his  heart  open 

to  the  full  truth  before  his  few  remaining  years  are  ended. 
Not  for  worlds  would  I  disturb  such  a  man's  faith  if  I  did 
not  believe  in  something  deeper  and  higher  to  take  its  place,  to 
make  his  life  more  hopeful  and  blessed.  As  we  came  away 
he  said  almost  plaintively:  *'  Do  not  think  that  I  do  not  believe 
in  the  rightness  of  the  true  worship  of  God.  If  I  did  not, 
would  I  offer  my  house  to  you  for  cultos  ?  '* 

March  3,  1904. 

Two  weeks  are  as  many  as  I  can  give  nowadays  to  any 
place  away  from  busy  Ponce,  so  I  must  leave  Coamo  tomor- 
row.     Today,  I  saw  A about  a  matter  of  discipline  in 

the  little  church.  He  shows  a  violent,  unchristian  spirit  in  de- 
claring that  he  will  *'  no  more  darken  the  doors  of  the  mission 
while attends,"  etc.,  etc.     Alas!  alas!      But  he  will! 

Ponce,  March  4,  1904. 

With  little  Abellno  as  companion,  I  drove  away  from 
Coamo  today,  just  after  noon.     The  hills  crowding  close  about 


Child    of    the    Sea  [129] 

the  town  are  sere  and  thirsting  for  rain.  The  lowlands  of  the 
coast,  as  we  approached,  were  so  green  and  flourishing  with 
the  wide-spreading  cane-fields,  bounding  the  newly  plowed 
ground,  here  and  there,  that  even  little  A.  exclaimed,  "  Que 
campo  alegref    What  a  glad  country! 

Sweet  indeed  seemed  our  cottage  in  its  clean  coolness,  set 
in  fresh,  welcoming  order  by  my  dear  little  companion.  Miss 
Greenlaw. 


GUANICA,   P.    R., 
March  31,  1904. 

Again  I  am  off,  to  green  fields  this  time,  and  pastures  new. 
*'  Holy  Week  '*  seemed  a  good  time  to  visit  the  small  town  on 
Guanica  Bay.  There  is  no  hotel  or  inn  of  any  kind  in  the 
place,  for  no  one  from  outside  ever  comes  to  stay,  at  this  sea- 
son, except  a  few  public-school  teachers  who  must  be  here.  I 
came  over  from  Yauco,  day  before  yesterday,  in  a  hired  car- 
riage, and  at  first  despaired  of  finding  even  a  room  for  sleeping, 
but  the  driver  drove  me  patiently  from  house  to  house  in  the 
long  street  of  little  cottages.  It  has  sometimes  been  possible  to 
find  householders,  in  such  places,  very  glad  to  rent  a  room  to 
a  law-abiding  missionary.  And  at  last  we  found  a  young 
Porto  Rican  school-teacher,  with  a  nice,  young  wife  who  will- 
ingly agreed  to  share  with  me.  They  themselves,  are  "  camp- 
ing out  "  in  this  house  much  too  large  for  them,  while  the  school 
term  lasts — no  more.  Without  doubt,  they  are  very  pleasant 
and  hospitable  to  the  lone  americana,  whom  they  have  seemed 
even  glad  to  take  in.  I  have  a  large  room,  a  cot,  a  blanket, 
one  chair,  a  bare  pine  table,  and  nails  galore  driven  into  the 
board  walls  for  the  few  clothes  brought  in  the  little  soldier 
trunk. 


[130]  Child    of    the    Sea 

Wide  sweeps  of  vivid  yellow-green  salt  meadows  surround 
the  house  as  we  are  almost  at  the  end  of  the  two  long  lines 
of  cottages  marking  the  village  street,  and  one  minute's  walk 
takes  me  to  the  edge  of  the  loveliest  of  Porto  Rican  bays. 
But,  since  yesterday  the  sky  has  been  leaden,  the  wind  howling 
across  the  treeless  waste  of  salt  meadows,  the  Bay  as  dreary 
as  a  bay  can  look,  and  the  Delectable  Mountains  in  the  north 
are  swathed  in  mist. 

Our  mission  here,  after  months  of  preaching  by  the  Porto 
Rican  pastor  in  Yauco,  is  still  in  a  rather  feeble  infancy.  We 
have  the  most  diminutive  house  possible  for  cultos.  Four  per- 
sons have  asked  for  baptism,  and  there  are  children  (of  course) 
who  come  to  the  little  blue  house  to  sing.  How  I  long  to  teach 
some  of  these  ladies  and  girls  who  have  been  hearing  and 
misunderstanding  this  simple  truth  of  God,  confounding  it,  now 
with  spiritualism,  now  with  a  "  higher  "  Romanism,  now  with 
"unbelief  in  the  Virgin,"  now  with  a  new  American  system  of 
religion — to  make  them  know  it  as  it  is,  a  light,  a  power,  a 
hope,  a  salvation! 

There  is  no  Roman  Catholic  church  here,  and  no  priest  ever 
comes  on  "  a  mission."  ^ 

Holy  Friday,  April   1,   1904. 

Pouring  rain  still ;  but  I  plunged  through  the  water  and  mire 
of  the  road,  yesterday,  to  the  children's  class,  after  school. 
Afterward,  I  visited  the  home  of  an  interesting  old  gentleman 
who  could  trace  his  forefathers  back  to  the  early  sixteenth  cen- 
tury.     Not  much  satisfaction  in  the  visit  to  the  garrulous  old 

'  Very  soon  after  our  work  crystallized  in  Guanica  into  a  church- 
membership  a  priest  began  visiting  the  village  for  hearing  confession  and 
celebrating  meiss,  and  when  our  own  chapel  was  finally  built,  a  few  years 
later,  the  Roman  Catholics  also  built  a  small  meeting-house  there. 


Child    of    the   Sea [BU 

man,  although  I  was  interested  in  him  as  an  antiquarian  and 
he  in  me  as  an — American! 

A  wretched  night  followed,  every  nerve  and  muscle  rd^elling 
against  the  saturation  of  the  atmosphere  of  my  camping-ground. 
So  ill  was  I  that  the  fighting  cats  and  dogs  on  the  porch  out- 
side of  my  door,  and  the  swarms  of  mosquitoes  and  hordes  of 
ants,  were  but  insignificant  items  in  the  general  misery.  But 
I  looked  out  this  morning  to  find  a  brilliant  blue  sky,  flashing 
blue  sea,  and  the  salt  meadows  golden  green  in  the  sunlight. 
After  a  stroll  on  the  beach  I  came  home  to  fall  asleep  on  my 
cot  like  a  tired  baby.  A  meeting  for  women  this  afternoon, 
and  then  tomorrow  I  must  hurry  back  to  Yauco,  for  Sunday. 

Hotel  American  Victory, 
Yauco,  P.  R.,  April  2,  1904. 

From  the  balcony  of  the  little  hotel  I  can  see  the  sparklike 
lights  in  the  cots  which  crowd  the  hill  above  the  town  twinkling 
down  upon  the  streets,  full  tonight  of  the  uproar  of  merry- 
makers and  the  ringing  of  bicycle-bells.  As  this  is  "  Saturday 
of  Glory,"  day  before  Easter,  Lent  is  over  and  done  with, 
and  all  the  world  is  agog  and  gay. 

April  4.  1904. 

I  am  visiting,  In  these  few  days,  those  of  the  new  "  brethren 
and  sisters  "  who  are  unknown  to  me.  One  of  the  boys  of 
the  old  Class  and  Club  is  a  member  of  the  church  now,  and 
Victoria,  one  of  the  little  girls.  Where  are  the  others?  I  ask. 
They  say,  "  Ah,  if  you  had  been  here!  "  But  is  it  not  true 
that  some  are  always  "  left  "? 

Yauco  has  never  seemed  to  "  hunger  and  thirst  "  for  the 
gospel.  But  we  have  a  church  of  sixty  members,  many  inter- 
esting characters  among  them, 


[132]  Child    of    the    Sea 


Ponce,  P.  R., 
April  10,  1904. 

Malaria  came  home  with  me  from  Guanica  and  its  mos- 
quitoes. I  lie  for  a  day  or  two  in  my  cool  bed,  and  ache  and 
ache. 


Child   of   the  Sea  [133] 


XHI 

Allons!  whoever  you,  come  travel  with  me! 
Traveling  with  me,  you  find  what  never  tires. 

—Walt  Whitman. 

Hotel  Americans'  Home, 
Barros.  p.  R.,  July  13,  1904. 

MR.  TowleS  of  the  Methodists  [later,  author  of  the 
book  "  Down  in  Porto  Rico  "]  shared  my  carriage 
and  the  expense  from  Ponce  as  far  as  Aibonito.  I 
found  him  a  very  agreeable  companero  de  viaje,  as  he  is  an 
enthusiastic  and  wide-awake  American,  in  full  sympathy  with 
Porto  Rico  and  with  mission  work.     Some  Americans  aren't ! 

After  parting  from  Mr.  T.  at  noon,  I  left  the  Military 
Highway  for  the  new  road,  steepish  and  long,  leading  to 
Barranquitas.  That  little  town  lying  high  among  the  moun- 
taintops  is  built  on  a  level  spur,  from  which  one  may  look 
down  on  each  side  into  ravines,  across  other  hilltops,  and  be- 
yond to  even  higher  heights.      Don  G ,  the  pastor  here 

in  Barros,  was  waiting  for  me  in  Barranquitas,  having  come 
to  escort  me  safely  hither.  And  the  six  peons  with  the  ham- 
mock, who  were  to  carry  me  the  rest  of  the  way,  as  there  is  no 
carriage-road  beyond  Barranquitas,  were  ready  for  our  next 
day's  trip.  I  found  a  room  in  a  private  home  prepared  for 
me,  with  all  the  hospitality  of  these  country  people,  which  Is 
often  a  quaint  mixture  of  gentle  courtesy  and  naive  familiarity. 

There  was  time  for  calling  in  two  homes,  with  Don  G , 

after  resting  a  few  moments  and  partaking  of  two  small  eggs 
**  passed  through  the  water  "  (soft  boiled)  and  a  glass  of  milk, 
all  before  going  to  an  evening  culto.     There  Is  the  usual  rented 


[134] Child    of    the    Sea 

storeroom  for  the  mission  in  Barranquitas,  where  occasional 
services  have  been  held  w^henever  they  could  be  arranged  for 
from  Barros,  or  by  a  passing  missionary.  This  time  there  was 
a  motley  crowd  of  men  and  boys  inside,  who  pored  over  the 
hymn-books,  reading  aloud  from  them  rather  than  singing,  and 
a  few  poor  women  and  little  girls.  Outside,  a  crowd  of  all 
sorts  and  conditions  remained  standing,  chatting  and  listening 
by  turns. 

The  hammock-bearers  were  to  be  at  the  door  before  sunrise, 
so  I  went  early  to  bed,  but  it  was  really  half  past  six  before 
we  were  off  the  next  morning.  Some  day,  the  carriage-road 
will  be  extended  to  Barros  and  beyond,  but  there  is  now  only 
a  horse-trail,  so  rough  and  steep  that  it  had  been  considered 
out  of  the  question  for  me  to  attempt  it  on  horseback,  being  no 
horsewoman. 

It  seemed  very  ignominious  to  be  borne  in  a  hammock,  as  I 
have  seen  so  many  sick  and  dying  carried  to  doctors  or  hos- 
pitals, and  I  walked  quite  outside  of  town  before  establishing 
connection  with  my  conveyance.  Then,  the  men  laid  the 
strong  canvas  thing  dovm  on  the  ground,  I  laid  myself  upon  it, 
and  was  gently  lifted  by  the  bamboo  pole  carried  on  the 
shoulders  of  two  bearers.  A  white  bedspread  thrown  over  the 
pole  fell  tentwise  about  me,  and  the  journey  began.  At  inter- 
vals the  two  relieving  peons  took  the  places  of  the  perspiring 
panting  pair  at  the  pole,  and  each  time  came  renewed  energy 
in  the  dog-trot  jolting  by  the  fresh  relay.  A  fifth  man  carried 
my  little  flat  trunk  on  his  head,  and  a  sixth  the  bundle  of  rugs, 

and   umbrella.      Behind   or  before,   as  escort,   Don   G 

climbed  quietly  on  his  mountain  pony. 

When  we  reached  shade  and  coolness  above,  I  would  not 
have  the  curtain  hang  about  me,  for  the  air  was  sweet,  and  the 
country  beautiful.  Little  rounded  hills  below  the  trail  sug- 
gested plump,  green  pincushions  stuck  with  pins — plumy  royal 


Child   of    the   Sea [135]^ 

palms  on  their  straight,  gray  stems.  The  bearers  were  good- 
natured,  and  cracked  many  a  joke  as  we  went  along.  Once  or 
twice,  I  was  allowed  to  walk  when  the  hot  sky  was  veiled  and 
the  trail  was  level  for  a  bit.  We  stopped  to  rest  at  a  farm- 
house, and  I  had  hot  coffee  made  and  brought  out  to  the  men" 
who,  I  found,  had  taken  nothing  before  starting  out  to  lug  me 
over  the  mountain!  Between  Barranquitas  and  Barros  we 
passed  in  sight  of  the  geographical  center  of  the  Island. 

It  was  half  past  nine  o'clock,  and  we  had  been  traveling 

for  three  hours,  when  Don  G announced  that  we  were 

nearing  Barros.  He  would  spur  on  ahead,  he  said,  and 
apprize  his  wife  and  "  the  rest  "  of  our  coming.  And  when 
presently  the  first  house  appeared  from  around  a  bend  in  the 
road,  and  I  had  landed  on  my  feet,  sunburned,  disheveled, 
with  clothes  all  awry,  a  smiling,  starched-and-ironed  group  of 
young  folks  came  chattering  around  the  cliff  from  town  to  meet 
me.  A  deputation  from  the  little  church!  After  salutations, 
I  asked  permission  to  put  up  my  hair,  and  kneeling  down  in  the 
weeds,  with  all  looking  on  with  open  curiosity,  I  managed  with 
side-combs  to  get  it  into  order. 

The  trail  had  ended  suddenly,  not  "  in  a  squirrel  track  run- 
ning up  a  tree  "  but  in  a  cart-road,  and  then  the  road  ran  into 
a  street  leading  straight  through  the  town.  As  we  proceeded 
rather  noisily  along  the  street,  doors,  windows,  and  porches 
were  crowded  with  spectators  to  witness  the  arrival  of  the  first 
American  woman  ever  in  Barros! 

I  had  hardly  taken  off  my  hat  in  this  "  guest-house  "  which 
cannot  be  called  a  hotel,  when  an  important-looking  document 
was  sent  over  from  the  town  hall  across  the  street — a  small, 
frame  house,  itself  not  important-looking  at  all — with  the  re- 
quest that  the  americana  would  have  the  kindness  to  translate 
the  paper  from  English  into  Spanish! 

The  *'  Americans'  Home  "  occupies  the  second  floor  of  a 

K 


[136] Child    of    the    Sea 

ramshackle  frame  building,  reached  from  the  street  by  a  steep 
flight  of  wooden  stairs ;  below  there  are  storerooms,  and  a  poor 
family  occupies  a  room  or  two.  "  Tia  "  is  the  hostess,  a 
friendly  little  soul  who  smokes  a  long  cigar  in  her  resting-times, 
and  she  has  given  me  the  best  of  the  four  little  bedrooms  at 
her  disposal.  One  window  overlooks  our  chapel,  which  is 
nearly  finished.  The  hammering  and  sawing  went  on  busily 
all  the  afternoon,  seemingly  at  my  very  head  as  I  rested  after 
lunch,  .and  accompanied  by  the  shrill  whistling  of  familiar 
h5Tnn-tunes  by  the  workmen,  most  of  whom  are  "  brothers  in 
Christ." 

July  19,  1904. 

The  mission  has  already  crystallized  into  a  small  church,  a 
remarkably  youthful  group,  as  there  are  few  elderly  persons 
among  them.  They  are  all  ardent  in  attendance,  in  singing, 
and  in  Bible  study,  and  the  fact  that  our  temporary  mission 
house,  until  the  chapel  is  finished,  is  almost  vis-d-vis  with  the 
Roman  Catholic  church,  does  not  quench  their  ardor  one  whit. 
As  usual  everywhere  in  the  mountains,  the  work  here  began 
with  visits  from  the  missionary  and  an  occasional  trip  of  a  col- 
porteur. Two  months  ago  there  were  baptisms  by  Mr.  Rudd 
in  the  mountain  stream  flowing  by,  and  the  first  glamor  of 
enthusiasm  has  not  yet  passed.  The  novelty  of  American 
interest  in  their  shut-off-from-the-world  lives,  their  own  awak- 
ened interest  in  the  Bible,  which  is  a  new  book  for  all,  in  the 
bright  hymn-tunes,  and  the  frequent  services,  still  holds.  Some 
of  this  will  pass  and  then  will  come  the  testing-time  of  these 
young  believers.  I  have  already  learned  that  some  of  them 
have  withdrawn  from  a  social  club,  recently  inaugurated,  with 
dancing  as  a  star  feature,  a  bar,  and  late  hours,  on  Sundays  as 
well  as  on  all  other  nights.  Are  they  finding,  or  are  they  going 
to  find,  with  our  help,  something  in  their  new  faith  to  satisfy 


Child    of    the    Sea T137]_ 

and  inspire  so  that  such  amusement  will  not  appeal  to  them? 
The  oldest  in  years  is  only  an  infant  as  yet  in  Christian  experi- 
ence, earnest  and  zealous  as  all  are. 

The  man  who  is  superintending  the  building  of  the  chapel, 
is  from  the  United  States,  and  is  employed  by  the  Home 
Mission  Board  of  the  North  for  this  work.  I  think  Mr.  Riggs 
has  built  two  or  three  chapels  in  Cuba  recently.  The  young 
people  like  him,  and  as  he  also  takes  his  meals  at  Tia's,  her 
big  room  up-stairs,  which  is  dining-  and  sitting-room  combined, 
has  become  an  informal  gathering-place  for  the  members  of  the 
church,  Romanist  though  the  landlady  is.  She  makes  the 
hosiia,  the  wafer  used  at  communion  in  her  church,  and  she  has 
given  me  samples  of  the  delicately  molded  wafers  of  flour  and 
water,  of  the  size  of  a  silver  quarter  and  stamped  with  the  sign 
of  a  lamb.  Until  the  "  host "  is  consecrated  by  the  priest,  it 
suffers  no  indignity  at  falling  into  my  hands.  In  the  curious, 
old  kitchen  the  two  daily  quarts  of  milk  are  prepared  for  the 
priest,  whose  "  weak  stomach  "  is  spoken  of  with  pious  pity. 

These  dear  young  friends  come  to  the  up-stairs  room,  before 
school,  at  recess,  after  school,  at  night,  sitting  through  our 
meals,  chatting  sociably  in  Tia's  rocking-chairs.  Mr.  R.  has 
been  teaching  them  new  hymns,  and  Tia  does  not  seem  to 
mind  at  all,  though  the  music  of  the  "  songs  of  Zion,"  sung 
lustily,  fills  the  house  and  even  the  street  down  below.  Some- 
times she  joins  us,  contentedly  smoking  her  long,  black  cigar, 
after  dinner. 

Again  I  am  reading  aloud  "  El  Vtador,"  "  The  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  and  we  shall  have  an  occasional  evening  of  games 
together. 

July  28,  1904. 

The  pastor's  young  wife  and  two  of  the  older  girls  of  the 
mission  come  to  my  rponi  every  i))oming  for  an  hour's  study  of 


[138] Child    of    the    Sea 

the  book  of  Romans.  This  is  the  first  pleasure  of  my  day. 
It  is  true  that  the  book  holds  an  argument  reaching  beyond  the 
present  advance  of  these  children  in  the  faith,  yet  there  is  much 
in  it  which  they  do  understand,  for  a  strangely  simple  wisdom 
seems  given  to  many  a  seeker  after  truth.  I  often  marvel  at 
it  and  feel  the  reaction  of  its  power  upon  my  own  spirit. 

The  boards  that  ought  to  be  ceiling  and  flooring  the  chapel 
are  still  in  the  trees !  Long,  long  ago  they  were  ordered  sawed 
for  ripening.  They  tell  me  here,  in  this  connection  that,  "  Para 
un  jibaro,  olro  jibaro;  para  dos  jibaros  el  diablo"  "  For  one 
country  fellow  another  country  fellow,  for  two  the  devil."  For 
these  "  country  fellows  "  alone  know  the  devious  ways  of  each 
other.  Though  given  an  order  for  two  hundred  seasoned 
boards,  months  ahead  of  the  need,  they  now  trail  down  the 
mountains  to  Barros,  week  by  week,  bringing  two,  three,  ten 
green  boards  at  a  time.  Already,  the  partly  laid  floor  is 
shrinking  apart,  board  by  board,  while  it  has  been  necessary  to 
"  strip  "  the  cracks  in  the  boarding  of  the  walls. 

July  31,  1904. 

Yesterday,  I  climbed  with  several  girls  to  the  top  of  the 
ridge  above  the  town,  where  the  big  mango  tree  stands,  rounded 
and  shapely.  We  kept  on  over  the  ridge  and  do\sTiward  to  a 
thatched  hut  standing  among  a  waste  of  risings  and  fallings  of 
slopes  innumerable.  A  woman  sat  on  the  floor  of  the  hut, 
patiently  grinding  yellow  corn  between  two  flat,  round  stones, 
turning  the  upper  stone  upon  the  nether  by  means  of  an  upright 
stick  fixed  in  the  upper  stone.  The  coarse  meal  resulting  sifted 
out  on  all  sides  into  the  woman's  lap  and  on  to  a  gunny  sack 
spread  on  the  floor. 

Two  girls  were  shucking  and  shelling  com  on  the  floor  close 


Child    of    the    Sea [139^ 

by,  and  after  saluting  them,  and  being  bidden  to  enter,  we  fell 
to  and  helped.  A  sick  man  sat  drearily  astride  a  hammock 
and  took  no  notice  of  us.  For  four  years  he  has  been  sick 
with  asthma,  and  doubtless  other  ills.  The  woman  says  she 
plants  and  harvests  a  patch  of  ground,  with  the  young  ones 
to  help,  and  they  eke  out  a  scanty  living,  without  even  the 
reward  of  good  sleep  at  night,  because  of  the  man's  desperate 
attacks  of  suffocation  at  any  hour  of  the  night.  I  suppose  they 
close  every  crack  in  window  and  door  when  day  is  done ! 
Sunday  School  today  was  the  largest  we  have  had. 

August  3,  1 904. 

Today,  we  climbed  again  to  the  mango  tree  and  went  over 
the  ridge.  We  found  the  whole  family  of  the  thatched  hut 
sitting  dumb  and  motionless  on  the  floor.  The  man  had  just 
come  out  of  one  of  his  "  spells,"  and  the  family  had  not  yet 
recovered.  He  sat  astride  the  hammock  as  before,  as  he  can- 
not lie  down,  but  he  kept  his  ghastly  face  turned  from  us. 
The  corn  and  grindstones  were  out  of  sight,  as  he  had  not  been 
able  to  bear  the  noise  of  the  grinding,  the  woman  told  us. 

I  "  snapped  "  the  house,  although  they  seemed  timid  about 
having  me  do  it.  Next  I  showed  the  picture-cards  I  had 
brought,  with  Bible  verses  pasted  on  them.  Their  fear  was 
manifest,  then.  At  my  invitation  to  come  nearer  and  see  the 
cards,  the  little  boy  did  not  budge,  but  shrugged  and  shrank 
all  up  in  his  little  shirt!  The  woman,  after  silently  conferring 
with  her  husband  by  glances,  said  decidedly  that  they  dared 
not  receive  the  cards.  It  might  injure  them  with  the  priest. 
But  they  would  ask  the  priest  if  they  might  have  them,  and  if 
he  agreed  then  they  would  come  to  get  them  from  me!  She 
would  not  even  look  at  the  cards  while  I  explained  in  simplest 
words  that  the  texts  were  from  la  Diblia,  the  book  which  every 
priest  knew  to  be  "  God's  word." 


[140]  Child    of    the   Sea 

The  girls'  eyes  glistened  at  the  sight  of  the  painted  flowers 
on  the  cards,  but  they  said  not  a  word.  The  mother  then 
explained  that  her  daughters  had  been  to  confession  a  day  or 
two  before,  and  had  become  "  Daughters  of  Mary,"  so,  be- 
longing to  this  Society,  it  was  needful  to  do  nothing  which 
might  injure  them  with  the  priest.  She  had  told  him  that  they 
could  not  pay  as  others  did  for  the  privilege  of  being  "  Daugh- 
ters," and  he  had  said,  "  Oh,  never  mind,  a  little  cent,  a  little 
egg,  anything  you  may  have  will  do!  "  And  that  morning,  I 
learned  they  had  had  nothing  to  eat  or  drink  but  "  coffee  " 
made  from  parched  corn,  with  no  sugar. 

Her  face,  sad,  hollow-eyed  and  strained,  broke  into  a  really 
happy  smile  as  we  produced  the  coffee  and  sugar  we  had 
brought.  She  came  hastily  across  the  room  to  open  the  pack- 
ages as  if  half  disbelieving  me.  "  Now,  I  can  give  him  some 
coffee!  "  she  cried  with  joy,  her  thought  only  for  her  sick  man. 
Poor  woman,  she  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  ask  the  priest's 
permission  before  accepting  these  gifts! 

Last  night,  a  crowd  of  the  young  folks  gathered  in  Tia's 
dining-room  for  singing-practice  and  the  reading.  In  four 
readings  more,  we  shall  finish  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress."  Their 
enjoyment  of  the  book  has  been  inspiring,  for  they  have  seemed 
to  visualize  every  scene  in  Christian's  dramatic  career  and  with 
clear  understanding. 

August  12,  1904. 

I  am  making  the  baptistery  curtains  for  the  new  chapel,  of 
heavy,  crimson  damask  fetched  from  San  Juan  by  post. 

Some  Barreiio  customs:  When  schooltime  arrives,  a  little 
boy  struts  manfully  up  and  do\vn  the  main  street  ringing  a 
small,  shrill  tea-bell.  This  is  a  much  coveted  office,  and  the 
favored  urchin  lifts  his  arm  proudly  aloft,  and  seems  to  feel 
that  the  municipal  welfare  sits  upon  his  shoulders. 


A  Lane  in  Barranquitas 


The  Sick  Man's  House  in  Barros 


Child    of    the    Sea [HU 

When  there  is  a  marriage,  the  bride  gives  away  bits  of  her 
ribbon-bows  to  her  "  gentlemen  friends,"  and  these  are  worn 
pinned  on  the  coat  lapels,  until  they  grow  grimy  and  dejected. 
This  is  called  la  capa  de  la  nina,  and  the  custom  may  not  be 
confined  to  Barros. 

We  were  waiting  to  read  the  last  chapter  in  '*  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress "  today,  and  some  of  the  young  crowd  were  slow  to  as- 
semble. "  Let's  sing  a  hymn,"  said  Pedrito,  "  that  will  bring 
them!  "  But  this  would  be  called  an  "  engrafted  "  custom 
in  Barros. 

August  15,  1904. 

My  days  in  Barros  are  numbered.  A  deliciously  sweet, 
bright  morning,  with  a  fresh  breeze  blowing  in  at  my  little  north- 
east window. 

The  chapel  is  nearly  ready  for  the  dedication  tomorrow 
night,  as  the  floor  has  slowly  crept  across  the  sills  with  the 
boards  dragged  down  the  mountain  trails  by  men  and  beast 
from  time  to  time.  The  seats  are  benches  made  here  in  the 
chapel  by  the  carpenters,  rather  clumsy  affairs,  but  at  least  they 
have  backs.  The  tvs^o  pulpit  chairs  Mr.  Riggs  has  made  him- 
self of  nutmeg  Tvood,  highly  polished  by  the  patient  use  of 
sandpaper  and  oil — a  pale-brown,  speckled  wood.  The  lamps 
are  in  place,  and  many  friends  are  lending  potted  plants  and 
offering  cut  flowers  for  the  decorations  at  the  dedication 
service. 

The  children  are  ready  for  their  festival  Vespertino,  an  after- 
noon entertainment  of  songs  and  speeches,  and  all  the  young 
folks  are  as  enthusiastic  over  their  dialogues  and  discursos  as 
they  are  over  everything  else.  Printed  invitations  have  been 
sent  to  everybody  in  town  for  all  the  dedication  services,  and 
there  will  be  several  "  visiting  brethren  "  from  other  towns  to 
take  part  in  the  dedication  itself. 


[142]  Child    of    the    Sea 


Barranquitas,  p.  R., 
August  18,  1904. 

Farewells  this  morning  and,  as  always  I  have  felt  sad  all 
day  since  leaving,  at  coming  away  at  all.  The  girls  spent  the 
last  two  hours  with  me,  crying  and  lamenting,  as  is  the  way 
of  girls,  and  when  the  final  hour  came,  with  many  others  they 
accompanied  us  out  of  town  to  the  place  where  my  hammock- 
bearers  were  waiting.  The  "  delegates  "  were  all  on  horse- 
back and  the  procession  separated,  the  little  church  returning 
to  town  and  the  rest  of  us  taking  up  the  trail  for  Barranquitas. 

Tonight,  we  have  had  a  crowd  of  children  at  mission 
service  here  in  Barranquitas.  I  counted  about  fifty  inside  the 
room.  My  heart  went  out  to  the  women  and  children,  and  I 
hope  to  return  in  October  for  a  few  weeks  with  them. 


Child    of    the    Sea [143] 

XIV 

I  stood  tip-foe  upon  a  little  hill. 

The  clouds  were  pure  and  white  as  flocks  new-shorn 
And  fresh  from  the  clear  brook;   sweetly  they  slept 
On  the  blue  fields  of  heaven,  and  then  there  crept 
A  little  noiseless  noise  among  the  leaves, 

There  was  wide  wandering  for  the  greediest  eye 
To  peer   about  upon  variety; 
Far  round  the  horizon's  central  air  to  skim. 
And  trace  the  dwindled  edges  of  its  brim. 

So  I  straightway  began  to  pluck  a  posy 
Of  luxuries  bright,  milky,  soft  and  rosy. 

— Keats. 


Ponce,  P.  R., 
October.    11.   1904. 

TWO    more   American    missionaries   with   their   families 
have  come  to  our  Island  work — Rev.  L.  E.  Troyer  and 
Rev.  H.  L.  Vodra.     One  other.  Rev.  E.  L.  Humphrey, 
has  been  here  since  1902  and  is  stationed  at  Cayey,  in  the 
interior  of  the  Island. 

The  rainy  season  at  its  rainiest  has  been  upon  us  for  days, 
the  streets  are  rivers  of  mud  and  water,  and  cloudbursts  of 
rain  thunder  down  upon  the  zinc  roofs  overhead.  Market 
prices  have  soared,  houses  are  mud-tracked  and  moldy,  bones 
ache,  and — presently  we  shall  have  glorious  sunshine  again, 
and  old  Speckle  may  come  out  of  his  foot-bath  in  the  un- 
drained  pal'io,  a  shallow  lake  just  now. 


[144]  Child   of   the   Sea 


Barranquitas,  p.  R., 
October  25,  1904. 

It  rains,  and  I  sit  in  the  snug  little  whitewashed  chamber 

at  Doiia  T 's.     The  small,  flat  trunk  is  unpacked,  nails 

are  driven  into  the  board  walls  to  hold  clothing;  my  feather 
pillow  and  steamer-rug  make  the  cot  comfortable,  my  own 
soap,  brushes,  towels,  take  the  place  of  those  the  family  so 
kindly  provided  for  me,  and  presto!  the  room  is  mine!  How 
hospitable  these  people  are,  always  giving  of  their  very  best 
and  never  apologizing  if  it  be  not  so  good  as  they  would  like 
it  to  be — true  courtesy.  This  is  not  a  public  inn,  like  Tia's 
at  Barros,  and  I  appreciate  the  goodness  that  affords  me  even 
a  very  small  corner  of  the  home. 

A  sorrow  is  touching  our  Island  mission  now,  because  of 
the  growing  illness  of  dear  Mrs.  McCormick  which  is  neces- 
sitating the  family's  return  to  the  States.  Mr.  McC.  was  our 
first  missionary  here,  in  February,  1899. 

October  29,  1904. 

We  are  still  near  the  beginning  of  things  here  in  Barran- 
quitas, the  congregations  at  the  irregular  preaching  services, 
when  some  mission  worker  can  be  here,  being  still  changing, 
inattentive  crowds.  After  awhile  some  will  drop  off,  leaving 
a  group  of  earnest  men  and  women  and  children  who  wdll  be- 
gin to  understand  what  it  is  all  about,  and  from  this  nucleus 
the  thing  will  grow,  from  inside  out.  Our  rented  quarters  are 
perfectly  unattractive  but,  after  a  while  also,  there  will  be  a 
chapel  built  here  as  elsewhere.  I  have  had  two  classes  of 
young  folks  this  week,  who  came  noisily  swarming  in  from 
school,  to  hear  the  little  organ  and  to  see  the  amerkana.    They 


Child    of    the    Sea [145]^ 

are  bright  children  and  doubtless  wonder  mightily  what  it  is 
all  about. 

This  morning,  "  I  stood  on  tiptoe  upon  a  little  hill,"  with 
Keats  himself  in  my  mind  as  I  climbed  to  the  inviting  green  knob 
rising  above  the  roadside.  On  a  farther  hilltop  two  cows 
grazed,  in  jet-black  silhouette  against  a  snow-white  cloud! 
Little  children  strolled  with  me  and  chattered  of  the  wild 
guavas  we  found,  showed  me  the  brilliant  red  flowers  of 
zapatos  de  paloma,  dove's  shoes,  told  me  that  all  the  birds 
belong  to  the  Virgin,  and  described  to  me  the  toothsomeness 
of  the  malariga,  boiled  and  eaten  by  the  peasants — for  me  a 
tasteless  and  unwholesome  root. 

Once,  we  stopped  at  a  cottage  to  talk  with  six  children,  who 
learned  with  us  half  a  stanza  of  "  Crista  bendiio"  with  gusto. 
At  another,  where  a  barefooted  woman  in  black  calico  spread 
her  fresh  beans  to  dry  in  the  sun.  She  gave  me  the  details  of 
the  death  of  her  husband  eleven  days  ago,  of  a  gruesome 
operation.  Even  her  scrawny  chickens  were  "  in  mourning," 
as  one  of  my  small  companions  slyly  observed.  One  often 
wonders  at  seeing  so  many  more  black  than  white  chickens  in 
the  Island! 

Tomorrow,  we  shall  have  Sunday  School,  the  first  in  Bar- 
ranquitas. 

Sunday,  October  30,  1904. 

Not  so  many,  this  morning,  in  the  mission  hall  as  come  in 
the  freer  afternoon  hours.  But  they  listened,  dear  hearts, 
as  we  studied  with  the  blackboarcJ  about  gratitude  to  God. 
They  say  "  Thank  you  "  to  me,  when  I  hand  them  hymn- 
books,  I  say  "  Thank  you  "  to  them  for  the  posies  they  bring 
me,  so  we  say  "  Thank  you  "  to  God,  for — what  is  it  that 
comes    from    him    to    us?      "  Food"    they  shout   in    chorus. 

Water,"  "  Our  mothers  and  fathers"  etc.     I  should  like  to 


[146] Child    of    the    Sea 

show  them  the  way  to  know  God  as  he  is,  to  make  them  want 
to  be  his  own  dear  children. 

"  All  Souls'  Day,"  November  2,  1904. 

Yesterday,  I  was  cozily  dozing  on  my  cot,  when  a  hen 
roused  me,  stepping  more  heavily  than  I  would  have  imagined 
a  hen  could  step,  across  my  body.  She  was  perhaps  looking 
for  a  place  on  my  soft  steamer-rug  for  "  putting  "  an  egg,  or 
it  may  be  that  I  had  usurped  a  favorite  nesting-place. 

Unlike  Barros,  Barranquitas  has  no  little  bell-ringer  to  an- 
nounce the  school  hour  through  the  streets.  The  children 
simply  wait  until  they  see  the  teacher  go  and  open  the  school- 
room door;  as  this  is  not  always  at  the  same  hour,  the  schol- 
ars are  often  ready  long  before,  loitering  in  doorways  and 
along  the  street. 

For  a  day  or  two,  I  have  been  ill  and  work  must  go  slowly, 
but  I  have  books,  and  always  there  are  letters  to  write,  and 
from  my  cot  I  can  see  through  the  window  an  enterprising  fowl 
pulling  to  pieces  the  dried  palm-thatching  of  a  hut  outside,  and 
beyond,  the  white  clouds  piling  up  above  a  zinc  roof  close  by. 
It  is  delightfully  cool  here,  the  air  pure  and  good  to  breathe. 

Dr.  Adoniram  Judson  believed  that  Christ  was  with  him  "  in 
the  heart  of  the  heathen,  unlocli'mg  the  door  from  the  inside.^* 
The  people  of  this  Island  are  certainly  not  "  heathen,"  with 
their  kindness,  friendliness,  courtesy,  but  many  hearts  are 
closed  to  me  and  my  teaching  of  Him  as  we  know  him.  Bui 
the^  have  not  had  half  a  chance  to  know  the  truth  of  God. 
What  a  responsibility  for  us! 

November  4,  1 904. 

A  grim,  little  church  stands  on  the  upper  edge  of  the  steep, 
downward  slope  of  the  spur  the  town  stands  on,  and  it  faces 


Child   of    the   Sea U^ 

the  empty  weedy  plaza.  A  few  large  houses  with  shops  on 
the  ground  floor  front  on  this  plaza,  but  most  of  the  dwellings 
are  frame  cottages,  and  in  by-lanes  there  are  lines  of  huts  of 
the  very  poor.  The  priest  is  said  to  be  rather  lenient  with  his 
parishioners,  and  when  I  have,  met  him  he  shows  none  of  the 
personal  resentment  of  my  presence  which  priests  elsewhere 
have  shown. 

I  suppose  that,  in  a  sense,  it  is  "  proselyting  "  to  be  coming 
into  a  purely  Roman  Catholic  community  and  presenting  new 
religious  truths  for  study  to  large  and  small  folks.  Perhaps 
after  all,  proselyte  is  not  so  bad  a  word  as  it  seems,  if  the 
"  conversion "  implied  comes  about  through  personal  con- 
viction and  choice.  Surely  there  is  nothing  about  our  missions 
that  is  not  open  and  aboveboard,  and  those  who  learn  with 
us  do  so  of  their  ovsti  will.  I  cannot  imagine  any  one  hoping 
to  bring  Roman  Catholics  to  a  better  understanding  of  God 
and  hfe  itself,  by  railing  against  their  Church  and  ministers. 
Certainly  one  must  understand  the  religious  thought  of  another 
before  one  can  reasonably  hope  to  succeed  in  putting  a  better 
hope  in,  its  place. 

Both  the  ladies  of  this  household  are  Romanists  in  the  mild 
manner  of  many  in  these  mountain  towns.  Of  course  if  they 
were  fanatical,  they  would  not  have  taken  me  in  to  board. 
We  have  quiet  talks  together  after  the  children  are  abed.  One 
of  them  has  a  sweet,  docile  spirit.  Yesterday,  I  heard  her 
say — through  the  thin,  board  partition  between  the  rooms — 
to  a  young  woman  visiting  her:  "  Read  those  books  "  (the 
gospels  and  tracts  lying  on  a  table) ,  "  and  if  you  do  not  under- 
stand them  pray  to  God  and  say,  '  O  God,  give  me  sight  to 
understand  what  I  am  reading.'  " 

In  kindly  consideration  for  my  comfort,  the  dear  woman 
sent  to  the  church  for  her  prayer-rug  which  she  has  laid  be- 
side my  cot  on  the  bare  boards  of  the  floor. 


[148] Child   of    the   Sea 

November  5,  1904. 

The  two  young  men  who  are  studying  John  with  me  in  the 
evening,  brought  a  friend  with  them  tonight.  Thinking  that 
the  stranger  had  merely  come  to  make  a  call  with  them,  I 
hesitated  about  going  on  with  our  study,  but  my  first  mention 
of  the  reading  was  promptly  responded  to.  They  had  brought 
their  friend  for  this  very  purpose!  And  John  3  was  slowly 
and  carefully  studied,  the  intelligent  faces  of  the  young  men 
full  of  interest  as  they  read  from  their  little  books. 

November  8,  1 904. 

There  has  been  much  talk  of  the  danger  to  be  expected  here, 
today,  at  elections.  Families  were  taken  out  of  town  to  be  out 
of  harm's  way.  The  shooting  fray  of  last  election  day,  two 
years  ago,  in  Barranquitas,  has  been  gone  over  and  over  with 
many  idle  rumors  added.  Let  us  go  quietly  about  our  usual 
affairs,  I  have  said  to  them,  keeping  out  of  the  way  of  mischief. 

And  the  day  has  been  as  quiet  as  a  funeral  occasion.  Two 
long  lines  of  men  awaited  their  turn  to  vote,  at  the  respective 
"booths  of  the  Republican  and  the  Unionist  parties.  Serious, 
sober,  cleanly  dressed,  they  seemed  to  regard  the  occasion  as 
momentous.  Some  of  the  townsmen  have  little  idea  of  what 
they  are  voting  for,  at  least  they  have  little  interest  in  it,  beyond 
knowing  the  names  of  the  two  opposing  parties.  I  asked  a 
good-looking  man,  chopping  -wood  at  his  door,  why  he  was  not 
at  the  voting-place:  "  Because  if  I  vote  imionlsta,  the  republi- 
canos  will  be  down  on  me:  if  I  vote  republicano,  the  unionisias 
will  be  down  on  me;  so  I  vote  not  at  all!  "  was  his  candid 
reply. 

November  11,1 904. 

The  Unionists  gained  here,  and  in  Ponce.  In  Barros, 
farther  up  in  the  hills,  there  were  three  thousand  Republican 


Child    of    the    Sea [^ 

votes  and  one  Unionist!  Republicanism  just  now  in  Porto 
Rico  means  American  sentiment  in  opposition  to  Unionism, 
which  springs  from  the  old  Federal  party,  and  is  in  general 
anti-American.  *'  Unionists  "  is  a  name  to  attract,  for  union 
sounds  like  a  very  good  thing!  Two-year-old  Pepe,  when 
asked  for  his  political  sentiments,  puts  the  tips  of  his  two  fore- 
fingers together  closely  and  lisps  "  'Nista! 

Lately,  I  have  visited  two  of  the  principal  homes  in  town, 
finding  in  one  indifference,  even  coolness  in  attitude,  in  the 
other  keen  interest  in  comparing  the  teachings  of  the  New  Tes- 

teunent  with  the  practises  of  the  Church  here.     Doiia  V 

has  the  priest's  own  copy  of  the  New  Testament  in  Latin  and 
in  Spanish,  and  has  read  much  in  it,  lately.  After  speaking  of 
the  doctrine  of  many  intermediaries  she  said  to  me,  "  The 
Word  of  God  does  teach  the  truth  that  there  is  but  one  inter- 
cessor, but  it  seems  impossible  to  get  away  from  what  one  has 
been  taught  since  babyhood." 

It  was  interesting  to  have  her  find  in  the  priest's  book  the 
references  I  named  from  mine  and  to  see  the  wonder  with 
which  she  read,  in  both,  of  the  "  all  power  "  given  to  Christ, 
and  of  the  "  one  mediator  "  between  God  and  man. 

Today,  I  had  a  long  talk  with  the  priest  himself,  intro- 
duced by  Doiia  P at  the  post-office.     I  have  often  wished 

to  talk  freely  with  a  priest  (some  "  unconverted  "  one,  a  rare 
experience  for  a  foreign  missionary  here) — to  ask  him  ques- 
tions, to  face  him  with  the  Bible,  as  it  were.     Of  course  padre 

D extricated  himself  from  the  difficulties  into  which  my 

questions  might  have  plunged  him,  by  backing  dexterously  be- 
hind the  supreme  authority  of  "  the  Church."  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  dare  to  stand  up  before  his  people  in  church  to- 
morrow, and  simply  read  to  them  out  of  his  Bible  in  Spanish, 
about  those  things  of  which  we  were  speaking.  His  reply 
was  that  he  was  under  authority,  and  that  the  Church  had  pre- 


[150] Child    of    the   Sea 

pared  a  Bible  edited  with  notes  by  men  much  more  learned  than 
he,  who  might  be  expected  to  know  more  of  the  profundities  of 
that  profound  book  than  he;  that  the  plan  of  his  Church  is 
to  have  sermons  preached  from  texts  based,  of  course,  on  the 
Scriptures,  in  order  that  the  people  may  not  be  misled  by  their 
own  private  interpretation.  I  read  to  him  several  texts,  and  he 
could  or  would  give  no  direct  answers  to  my  questions:  "  Is 
this  true?  Do  you  believe  it?  Is  it  not  written  so  in  your 
Bible?  If  it  is  true,  how  can  you  teach  the  reverse  to  people 
who  trust  you?  "  I  knew  I  could  speak  frankly  with  him,  for 
he  is  most  friendly  and  is  known  to  be  not  in  the  least  fanatical. 
Indeed,  I  am  told  that  one  day  in  church,  seeing  a  poor  peasant 
woman  kiss  the  feet  of  an  image,  he  said  to  her:  "  What  do  you 
do  that  for?  That  is  only  a  piece  of  wood!  Pray  to  God." 
He  was  very  serious  and  respectful,  but  when  he  did  reply  to 
a  question,  it  was  perfunctorily  done  with  the  stock  phrases  of 
the  Romanist.  Once  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  that 
if  he  should  preach  what  I  had  spoken  of,  as  unquestioned 
truth,  he  would  be  put  out  of  the  Church — and  one  must  live! 
[Later,  this  man  was  removed  to  another  place — I  never 
learned  where — and  a  more  strict  priest  was  sent  to  B. !  We 
have  noticed  such  changes  in  many  places,  after  we  have 
firmly  established  a  mission.] 

Sunday,  November  13,  1904. 

It  seems  incredible  that  the  orderly  little  folks  at  Sunday 
School  this  morning  are  a  part  of  the  restless  horde  that  at 
first  invaded  the  cultos.  Perhaps  there  has  been  a  process 
of  automatic  winnowing  out  going  on,  and  only  the  more 
docile  return  to  be  taught.  I  regret  leaving  this  new  work, 
discouraging  as  it  has  been  at  times,  after  but  a  three  weeks' 
"  mission  "  here.  But,  there  is  much  to  be  done  in  Ponce. 
Sunday  School  entertainments  for  the  year's  end  must  be  pre- 


Child    of    the    Sea [ISU 

pared  for  at  several  "  stations,"  with  much  writing  of  dia- 
logues and  training  of  scores  of  infants  and  youths  in  their 
speeches  and  songs.  The  church  in  Ponce  has  come  to  count 
on  this  year-end  entertainment  as  a  fitting  culmination  of  their 
year's  studies.  With  bright  lights  and  flowers  we  make  the 
church  beautiful,  but  no  one  expects  anything  to  eat  or  gifts, 
and  the  house  is  always  filled  to  overflowing. 


[152]  Child    of    the    Sea 


XV 

I  found  among  those  Children  of  the  Sun. 

The   cipher   of   my   nature — the   release 
Of  baffled  powers,  which  else  had  never  won 

That  free  fulfilment  whose  reward  is  peace. 

For,  not  to  any  race  or  clime 

Is  the  completed  sphere  of  life  revealed; 
He  that  would  make  his  own  that  round  sublime 

Must  pitch  his  tent  on  many  a  distant  field. 

— Bayard   Ta})loT. 


Ponce,  P.  R., 
January  4,  1 905. 

YESTERDAY  Mr.  R.  baptized  five  men  and  women 
in  beautiful  Guanica  Bay,  just  at  sunset.  It  was  a 
lovely  setting  for  the  scene.  One  by  one  the  men  and 
women  were  led  out  from  shore  through  the  gilded  surf  roll- 
ing gently  on  the  sands,  into  deeper  water  beyond.  They 
seemed  to  tread  a  golden  pathway  toward  the  sinking  sun. 
The  women  changed  their  clothing  in  an  empty  hut  on  the 
beach  close  by,  and  then  we  all  came  walking  back  together 
by  the  long  street,  to  supper.  At  the  close  of  the  evening 
service,  in  the  larger  room  Mr.  R.  has  rented,  the  missionary 
organized  the  church  of  the  five  believers  just  baptized !  Such 
a  little  one ! 

Mr.  R.°s  words  of  explanation  as  to  what  a  Christian 
church  means,  and  his  counsel  and  encouragement,  are  al- 
ways singularly  appropriate,  and  I  eun  glad  of  every  oppor- 
tunity I  have  of  taking  part  in  these  first  things. 


Child    of    the   Sea  [153] 


February  7,  1905. 

Tonight  marks  an  epoch  in  our  Ponce  church  annals.  At 
the  business  meeting  we  agreed  to  call  to  the  church  as  pastor- 
assistant  to  the  missionary.  Rev.  Rcimon  Veliz  Lopez,  from  Rio 
Grande.  The  church  also  decided  to  contribute  five  dollars 
a  month  toward  his  salary.  A  first  step  toward  "  self- 
support  "  regarding  the  pastorate. 

February  21.  1905. 
*'  Don  Ramon  "  has  come,  with  his  wife  and  wee  baby 
Raquel — a  frail  little  being,  three  months  old.     Sweet  Dona 
A — - — ,  the  mother,  has  quite  captured  my  heart.     They  will 
be  of  much  help  in  our  church. 

March  27,  1905. 

Old  Speckle  has  had  to  go,  and  for  fifteen  dollars!  He 
cost  thirty,  and  has  served  me  for  about  three  years,  but  had 
become  too  tiresome  to  drive,  stumbling  and  falling  at  the 
least  provocation,  barking  his  knees,  snapping  straps,  besides 
eating  his  old,  obstinate  head  off  in  the  patio.  The  grass- 
man  has  brought  him  and  is  to  pay  for  him  in  daily  guinea- 
grass  for  the  new  horse.  Speckle  is  to  bring  the  grass  himself, 
poor  old  dear! 

Brownie,  the  new  Incumbent  of  the  shed.  Is  about  six  years 
old  and  trots  well  and  is  safe,  though  he  is  certainly  no  beauty. 

Accounts  of  the  Welsh  revival  have  been  thrilling  and 
tantalizing.  I  should  like  to  be  in  Wales  and  feel  it.  Why 
should  not  showers  of  blessings  fall  upon  us  too?  We  are 
beginning  a  series  of  special  cullos.  Obedience!  Obedience! 
is  Evan  Roberts'  cry  from  Wales, 


[154]  Child    of    the    Sea 

Easter  Sunday,  April  22,  1905. 

I  was  away  from  home,  at  La  Playa,  yesterday  when 
the  young  pastor  sent  for  me.  Little  Raquel  was  dying,  after 
sudden  failing.  She  was  gone,  when  I  got  to  the  house.  Dear 
wee  one,  so  feeble  and  small,  yet  filling  so  large  a  place  in  her 
devoted  parents'  hearts.  As  I  sat,  with  the  mother,  in  the 
evening  at  the  bedside,  Raquelita  on  her  little  pillow  looked 
like  a  pretty  waxen  doll  asleep,  in  her  white  muslin  frock. 

She  was  buried  this  afternoon,  and  the  young  parents  have 
come  home  with  me  for  a  night  or  two,  as  their  house  was  too 
lonely  without  the  baby. 

May  5.  1905. 

Tonight,  Miss  Greenlaw  and  I  in  my  phaeton,  and  others  in 
a  buggy,  drove  out  to  Portugues,  the  country  mission  across 
the  river,  for  the  first  velada  of  the  children's  class.  The 
rented  room  in  the  house  of  the  Perdomos  was  filled  with 
proud  parents  and  friends.  The  children  are  rustic  and  wild, 
but  they  said  their  "  pieces  "  with  smiling  gusto,  and  sang 
sweetly.  The  women  had  decorated  the  whitewashed  wall 
with  feathery  green  branches  hung  on  nails,  and  there  were 
immense  bunches  of  flowers  besides.  The  little  organ  fairly 
rocked  and  danced  as  we  sang  all  together  "  Glory,  Glory, 
Hallelujah  "  and  "  America." 

Yauco,  p.  R., 
Sunday,   May   7,    1905. 

Yesterday,  I  came  hither  by  second-class  on  the  train,  and 
enjoyed  the  hard  seat  among  the  polite,  first-rate  second-class 
people  much  more  than  I  have,  sometimes,  the  second-rate  first- 
class  traveling  men  as  companions.  Mr.  R.  has  now  rented  a 
commodious  warehouse  with  tvs'o  large  rooms  for  our  mission, 
next  door  to  the  owner,  Mrs.  G ,  a  Protestant  German- 


Child   of   the   Sea im^ 

English  lady.     And  Mrs.  G is  giving  me  a  room  and 

board  in  her  pleasant  house.     She  is  the  widow  of  a  Spaniard. 

Yauco  was  settled  chiefly  by  Corsicans  who  are  naturally 
more  like  Italians  than  Spaniards,  and  their  Spanish  is  at  once 
recognizable,  with  its  rather  foreign  accent.  Such  a  mixture 
as  one  finds  in  all  such  colonies  from  the  Old  World ! 

This  morning   in   the  mission   Sunday   School,  next  door, 

V taught  the  children's  class  of  twenty.     It  gave  me  pure 

joy  to  hear  her  with  gentle  dignity  explaining  the  lesson  as 
well  as  a  cut-and-dried  missionary  could  have  done — the  little 
girl  who,  first  of  all,  used  to  accompany  me  to  the  children's 
classes,  five  years  ago,  when  there  were  no  "  believers  "  here  at 
all.     She  is  now  sixteen  years  old. 

May  10.  1905. 

Yesterday,  I  hired  a  carriage  and  with  the  native  pastor, 

his  wife,  and  V ,  drove  to  Guanica  for  a  day  of  visiting 

and  an  evening  service  after  a  women's  meeting  in  the  after- 
noon. Three  of  the  five  baptized  in  the  sea  in  January  have 
moved  away.     The  two  left  are  a  woman  and  a  girl.     Poor 

little   church   of   Guanica!      E was   ironing   when   we 

went  to  see  her.  She  kept  on  with  her  work,  at  our 
insistence,  so  that  she  might  finish  in  time  to  cool  off  before 
going  into  the  sereno,  the  dew,  at  night.  She  cannot  read,  and 
her  Christian  growth  cannot  be  rapid  in  that  isolated  place,  but 
there  is  life  in  her  and  she  speaks  bravely  of  some  of  her  diffi- 
culties. Her  husband  does  not  oppose  her  in  her  religion,  but 
takes  advantage  of  her  being  a  Christian,  she  says,  and  speaks 
to  her  as  roughly  as  he  pleases,  knowing  that  she  **  Tvill  bear 
it  quietly  and  no  longer  fly  into  a  rage  Tv'tlh  htm.'*  What  a 
commentary  from  the  outside  upon  even  the  first,  faint  work- 
ing of  God's  Spirit  in  a  human  soul  that  seeks  him,  however 
alone ! 


[136] Child    of    the    Sea 

We  came  flying  back  to  Yauco  through  the  moonht  cane- 
fields,  shivering  in  the  cold  night  air  of  the  coast-lands. 

May  19,  1905. 

This  afternoon,  I  talked  long  with  "  El  Mayagiiez,"  one 
of  our  own  three  blind  men  in  Yauco.  He  thirsts  for  the  truth 
that  he  may  tell  it  to  others.  "  If  I  could  only  take  the  book 
in  my  hand  and  read  it  to  them!  "  he  said,  his  poor  sightless 
face  full  of  expression  as  he  turned  it  in  eagerness  to  me.  I 
reminded  him  of  what  a  lady  had  told  me  that  very  morning, 
that  El  Mayagiiez  subscribed  to  our  paper  El  Evangelista, 
and  carried  it  to  her  every  month  to  be  read  through  to  him 
and  that  he  lends  it  to  others!  He  tells  me  that  he  has  stood 
outside  on  the  sidewalk,  in  the  dark,  listening  to  our  women's 
study  at  the  mission,  and  that  he  has  heard  it  all.  If  I  had  only 
known  "  a  brother  "  cared  to  come  in !  I  invited  him  to  the 
children's  song-service  for  this  afternoon,  just  before  I  must 
take  the  train  back  to  Ponce. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
June  25.    1905. 

The  weather  Is  piping  hot,  keeping  pretty  steadily  at  90° 
Fahr.  by  day,  but  cooling  off  beautifully  at  night.  Yes- 
terday the  mothers  of  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  Industrial 
Class  at  La  Playa  came  to  the  church  by  invitation  to  see 
specimens  of  the  children's  work.  The  youngsters  themselves 
made  the  speeches,  young  C presiding  at  the  devotions. 

The  piece  of  work  done  by  this  class  during  the  past  years, 
of  most  interest  to  them,  has  been  the  making  of  a  small  model 
of  the  Tabernacle  in  the  Wilderness — the  cubit  measurements 
reduced  to  the  inch.  It  took  them  a  year  of  Saturday  after- 
noons to  make  it,  the  boys  preparing  the  little  "  boards  "  (cut 


Child    of    the    Sea [157]_ 

by  a  carpenter  from  cedar-wood  cigar-boxes)  with  sandpaper, 
gilding,  and  rings  for  the  "  bars,"  the  girls  making  the  sets  of 
curtains.  The  tabernacle  can  be  taken  to  pieces  or  set  up  in 
a  few  moments.  It  will  be  a  proud  day  for  them  when  the 
little  tabernacle  is  shown  in  the  churches  at  La 'Play a,  and 
perhaps  in  Ponce.  ^ 

Barranquitas,  p.  R., 
July  27,  1905 

Last  night,  I  slept  in  my  little  bed  without  a  mosquito-bar 
and  the  sheet  was  blacJf-peppered  this  morning  with  ancient 
dust  from  the  ceiling  overhead. 

The  same  heavenly  panorama  of  other  days  here,  of  clouds 
of  dazzling  white  mounting  into  the  pure  blue  of  the  sky  from 
behind  the  green  hills,  delights  my  eyes.  Such  purity  of  air, 
such  deliciousness  merely  in  the  act  of  breathing!  A  black 
hog  grunts  most  unholily  below  my  window,  but  "  the  sap- 
phire crown  "  of  the  sky  sits  upon  the  brow  of  the  emerald 
hill  beyond,  so  why  mention  a  pig?  Keats — I  want  him  with 
me  always  in  these  mountains — was  writing  to  another  Jane 
when  he  said : 

TTie  open  Sky  sifs  upon  one's  senses  like  a  sapphire  crown;  the  Air 
is  our  robe  of  state;  the  Earth  is  our  throne,  and  the  Sea  a  mighty 
minstrel  playing  before  it,  able  like  David's  harp  to  make  such  as  you 
forget,  almost,  the  tempest  cares  of  life. 

Our  present  storeroom,  rented  for  the  little  mission,  is  a 
huge  place  opening  directly  upon  the  passing  road.  From  the 
edge  of  the  road,  the  ground  falls  steeply  away  underneath 
the  floor,  so  that  only  the  front  wall  of  the  house  rests  on  the 

*  No  work  of  the  members  of  this  class  was  for  themselves.  They 
made  many  bedquilts  and  undergarments,  dressed  a  doll,  hemstitched 
handkerchiefs,  framed  pictures  in  tiny  sea-shells,  as  gifts  for  others. 


[138] Child    of    the    Sea 

ground.  Long-legged  posts  support  the  floor,  and  the  back 
windows  overlook  the  caiion  still  falling  away  into  deeper 
depths.  This  road  passing  us  is  the  highway  leading  on  to 
Barros  and  beyond,  not  yet  finished,  however. 

Here  in  this  little  Federal  town  I  am,  more  than  anywhere 
I  go,  a  persona  non  grata,  as  few  of  the  townspeople  care  as 
yet  for  our  mission  services,  and  it  really  costs  something  of 
the  women  and  girls  who  attend,  to  be  faithful  and  loyal — it  is 
such  a  little  town!  It  is  saddening  to  be  in  a  disliked  minority, 
and  to  have  children  run  from  one,  and  hide,  or  call  out  saucy 
words  at  one.     Some  day  it  will  be  different. 

Sunday,  July  30,  1905. 

Today  Mr.  Troyer  and  Don  A of  Barros  were  here 

and  the  Sunday  School  was  formally  organized,  with  adults 
and  children.  We  shall  now  have  more  regular  and  even  per- 
manent attention  given  to  this  struggling  mission,  and  its  his- 
tory will  be  that  of  all  the  others.  .  . 

Miss  G.  writes  from  Ponce  that  poor  old  sister  Rosa 
still  lingers  on  her  bed  of  long  suffering,  but  that  she  seems 
to  be  *'  resting  beside  still  waters,  In  green  pastures,"  rather 
than  passing  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow.  Dear  soul, 
under  the  dusty  thatching  of  your  hillside  hut,  I  hope  your 
longed-for  freedom  will  not  long  delay  Its  coming. 

A  poor  anemic  woman  haunts  this  house,  doing  jobs  of 
coarse  mending  in  exchange  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  a  plate  of 
beans  or  rice.  There  Is  something  uncanny  In  her  stealthj^ 
tread,  as  she  prowls  about,  peering  In  at  me,  watching  as  I 
write.  Great  things  are  being  proposed  and  some  accomplished 
in  the  anemic  cure.  They  have  treated  two  thousand  cases  In 
Doctor  Ashford's  field-hospital  for  the  diseased  near  Aibonlto, 
within  a  few  months.  This  poor  woman  is  gray  in  her  pallor 
and  Is  sadly  bloated. 


Vidal— Faithful  Cook  and  Sister  in  the  Faith,  Ponce 


Old  Speckle  "  at  the  Side  Door  of  the  Church,  Ponce 


Child    of    the    Sea [159] 

August  6,  1905. 

This  morning  there  were  eighteen  stationary  ones  in  Sun- 
day School,  and  many  transients.  I  rose  from  a  sick-bed  to 
go.  What  a  curious  expression!  I  wish  the  cot  could  bear 
some  of  the  pain  that  pork  and  grease  and  draughty  damp,  in 
combination,  can  produce. 

I  write  in  my  room,  divided  from  the  rest  of  the  cottage 
by  a  thin  partition  of  boards.  There  has  been  much  talk  com- 
ing through  all  day,  laughter  and  cries  of  children.  But,  this 
evening,  when  all  was  quiet,  I  have  talked  long  in  the  small 
parlor  with  the  two  widowed  sisters-in-law.  They  were  inter- 
ested in  a  tract  read  to  them  and,  again,  to  the  heart  of  one 
there  seemed  to  be  penetrating  a  ray  of  the  light  I  hoped  was 
entering  last  November. 

It  is  in  the  poorer  homes  that  I  find  the  listening  ear,  the 
kindling  eye,  for  the  words  of  cheer  and  hope  from  the  Bible. 
Yet,  as  before,  I  see  a  timid  interest  in  other  homes — where 
hearts  are  testing  the  truth  and  questioning  the  value  of  old  con- 
ceptions and  belief. 

COAMO,  P.   R., 

August   18,   1905. 

The  beautiful  church  here  was  dedicated,  last  night,  and 
thus,  in  all  the  chief  towns  of  our  missions,  suitable  meeting- 
houses are  taking  the  place  of  the  ramshackle  warehouse  rooms 
or  mere  cottages  of  the  first  cultos.  Yet  one  may  live  to  look 
back  with  an  almost  sentimental  regret  to  "  first  things  "  as 
they  took  place  in  the  smelly  old  warehouses  redolent  of  kero- 
sene oil,  "passed"  codfish,  and  stale  bacon!  The  edifices 
for  the  missions  are  all  being  solidly  built,  generally  of  brick, 
plastered  or  cemented  over,  and  meant  to  last.  I  think  it  is 
these  substantial  churches,  and  those  of  other  missions  besides 
ours,  which  most  convince  the  Island  people  that  Protestant 


[160] Child    of    the    Sea 

mission  work  has  come  here  to  stay,  and  not  to  perish  as  one 
American  enterprise  after  another  has  done.  As  the  Httle 
churches  grow  in  number  and  influence,  Porto  Ricans  are 
seeing  also  that  the  Christian  propaganda  is  not  an  American 
enterprise  in  its  original  source  or  ultimate  aiim. 

There  are  native  pastors  and  delegates  from  the  twenty- 
five  of  our  own  churches  here  today,  taking  part  in  the  annual 
Association.  Most  of  them  are  young,  and  enthusiastic  about 
their  work.  After  the  Association,  the  pastors  will  remain 
for  several  days  for  an  "  Institute,"  held  by  the  American 
missionaries-in-charge,  for  study,  for  the  hearing  of  theses  pre- 
pared by  the  students,  and  for  pastoral  instruction. 

Ponce  calls  me  loudly,  and  the  little  home  on  Isabel  Street. 
Miss  G.  who  has  been  with  me  for  two  years  is  to  be  very 
soon  transferred  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Troyer's  mission  school  in 
this  town,  so,  good  old  Vidal,  the  cook,  and  Claudino,  my 
horse-boy,  and  I  shall  be  alone. 


Child    of    the    Sea [161] 

XVI 

God  sitring  by  the  humblest  hearth. — Lov>ell. 


M 


Ponce.  P.  R.. 
October  4,  1905. 

'ISS  Greenlaw  set  out  this  afternoon  for  her  new  work 
in  the  school  at  Coamo.  Without  her,  the  cottage 
seems  lonely  this  rainy  night.  The  little  dog  and  the 
kittens  are  doing  their  best  to  befriend  me — the  black  kitten, 
boldest  of  all,  sitting  on  my  knee  and  nosing  the  pen  as  I 
write. 

November  11,  1905. 

I  was  in  Yauco  again,  last  night,  for  the  dedication  of  the 
new  church  which  stands  on  a  fine  corner  lot.  As  I  sat  behind 
the  organ,  on  its  platform,  looking  over  the  large,  reverent  con- 
gregation of  several  hundred  men  and  women  seated  in  the 
comfortable  new  chairs,  I  remembered  our  first  service  in 
Yauco,  in  the  little  fruit-shop  on  a  public  street,  loaned  for 
the  occasion  by  a  poor  woman  for — she  really  did  not  know 
what!  She  knew  only  that  the  Americans  wished  to  say  some- 
thing to  her  people  about  religion  and  the  Bible,  and  that  she 
was  friendly  to  us.  And  I  remembered  former  services  in  the 
hired  rooms  with  the  tipsy  chairs  and  the  backless  benches,  and 
wondered  at  all  that  the  perseverance  and  pluck  of  the  mis- 
sion aries-in-charge  were  doing  in  the  whole  Island.  Mighty 
little  have  I  had  to  do  with  any  kind  of  building  there  in 
Yauco — of  houses  or  of  Christian  character.  Often  I  grieve 
over  having  to  spread  myself  so  thin  over  important  details  in 
our  women's  and  children's  work.     And  now  I  have  had  to 


[162] Child    of    the    Sea 

come  back  to  Ponce  on  this  morning's  train,  too  busy  to  stay 
over  for  Sunday  with  the  happy  Httle  church  in  Yauco. 

"  Guest  House  "  of  Don  Manuel, 
Adjuntas,  p.  R., 
February  19,  1906. 

For  a  long,  long  time  I  have  wished  to  be  again  in  this  dear 
little  mountain  town.  We  seem  cut  off  from  the  world  up  here, 
but  not  so  much  as  in  the  old  days,  as  the  highway  is  finished 
through  Adjuntas  to  Arecibo,  on  the  north  coast,  and  one  can 
reach  the  sea  on  either  side  now,  north  or  south,  in  a  few  hours 
any  day. 

The  church  has  suffered  many  losses  from  removal  and  even 
"  exclusions."  The  comer-store  building  which  we  have 
bought  is  better  than  the  old  warehouse,  but  is  not  attractive  to 
outsiders  as  a  meeting-place,  and  I  hope  we  can  soon  tear  it 
dov^Ti  and  begin  the  church  building  on  this  pleasant  corner. 

It  is  four  years,  except  for  a  few  days*  visit,  since  I  was 
here,  and  as  I  go  in  and  out  of  the  alleyways  old  acquain- 
tances come  running  to  the  doors,  and  sometimes  I  hear  them 
calling  out :  "  It  looks  like  Dofia  Juanita !  It  is !  Here's 
Dofia  Juanita! 

February  25,  1906. 

Carnival  Sunday;  and  there  has  been  some  play  of  maskers 
in  the  streets,  but  all  is  quiet  now  at  dusk.  Down  in  Ponce, 
the  carnival  ball  in  the  Casino,  over  the  garden  walls  from  our 
cottage,  will  be  just  now  opening,  and  King  Momo  and  his 
court  will  have  been  thronging  the  streets  all  day  with  their 
rampant  din.  There  is  nothing  picturesque  about  carnival 
gaiety  in  our  Island. 

Though  the  mission  here  has  not  prospered  of  late  as  in 


Child    of    the    Sea [163]^ 

some  other  towns,  there  are  thirty-three  faithful  members  and 
many  Httle  children.  Some  live  off  in  the  mountains  and  can 
attend  only  the  day  services  unless  there  is  a  moon  to  light 
them  dov^n  and  up.  Everybody  is  glad  when  she  stays  long 
enough  to  light  the  somber  hill  trails!  These  are  often  only 
narrow  gullies  worn  by  rivulets  in  the  rainy  season,  and  by  the 
tread  of  man  and  beast  in  single  file  ceaselessly  passing  to  and 
fro.  At  night  the  darkness  is  dense,  from  the  shade  of  the 
big  trees  protecting  the  coffee-shrubs  from  too  much  sunlight, 
and  even  at  midday  a  chill  strikes  one  in  the  thick  groves. 

This  morning,  a  sweet-faced  old  lady  of  the  hills  above 
us  came  to  the  Bible  School  over  a  trail  which  they  insist  is 
much  too  steep  and  long  for  me!  These  hill-folk  are  serious 
and  for  the  most  part  industrious  and  independent  in  their 
lives.  It  is  good  to  think  of  their  getting  something  more  into 
their  days  than  the  endless  struggle  toward  feeding,  clothing, 
and  sheltering  themselves.  I  usually  find  the  little  parlor  of 
the  pastor's  wife,  next  the  mission  hall,  full  of  sturdy-looking 
women  and  their  menfolk,  resting  from  their  tramping,  while 
they  wait  for  the  service-hour  to  arrive.  Sometimes  they  make 
a  day  of  it,  coming  very  early  in  the  morning. 

The  townspeople,  even  here,  have  their  parties,  dances, 
church  feasts,  daily  mail,  newspapers,  and  other  pleasures  to 
vary  the  monotony  of  their  isolation  and  do  not  seem  to  feel 
their  need  of  the  gospel's  light  and  cheer,  as  the  lonelier  hill 
people  around  them  do. 

As  I  look  back  to  former  visits  here  I  realize  how  much 
effort  goes  to  apparent  waste  in  mission  endeavor.  Yet,  is  it 
waste,  after  all?     Who  can  know? 

The  folding-organ  given  me  by  the  church  at  Maiden, 
Mass.,  came  up  the  mountain  with  me,  scarred  by  much  travel 
already  and  wobbly  in  the  legs,  but  it  still  has  a  voice.  The 
singing  sounded  very  sweet  tonight — in  my  ears. 


[164] Child    of    the    Sea 

As  I  came  home  through  the  flowery  plaza  between  the  tall 
hibiscus  plants  and  the  rose-trees,  I  saw  a  thread  of  a  moon 
just  two  nights  old  glimmering  behind  a  filmy  cloud.  So,  by 
next  Sunday  evening  we  shall  have  light  for  the  hill-trails. 

Ash  Wednesday, 
February  28,   1906. 

I  stood  at  the  door  outside  of  the  little  Catholic  chapel,  this 
morning,  watching  the  intent  worshipers  on  their  knees,  who 
waited  with  patient  eagerness,  each  one,  for  the  crosslike  dab 
of  ashes  on  his  forehead.  The  ash  is  dampened  wath  holy  oil 
or  holy  water.  The  floor  was  crowded  to  the  doorway  with 
a  kneeling  mass,  and  the  silent  crowd  overflowed  into  the 
street,  kneeling  erect.  Every  one  was  clean  and  tidy,  most  of 
them  peasants  from  the  hills,  in  their  faded  cotton  clothes — 
the  women  with  white  kerchiefs  over  their  heads  and  tied  under 
their  chins.  Of  course  feminine  heads  must  be  covered  in 
church  as  rigorously  as  masculine  pates  must  be  bared. 

I  noticed  in  the  little  congregation  a  solemnity  new  to  me 
even  for  such  occasions.  One  realized  what  "  the  prophet," 
the  Hombre-Dios,  God-man,  has  been  doing  lately  at  least 
in  the  country  places  and  in  these  far-away  hills.  Poor,  dull 
Jose  Morales  from  Jayuya-way,  has  been  sent  by  "  the 
Church "  all  through  these  parts  and  elsewhere,  preaching, 
and  it  claims  for  him  inspiration  from  Heaven,  and  even 
more.  He  is  an  ignorant  peasant  who  cannot  read,  and  even 
this  is  set  to  his  credit  among  his  followers  who  say,  "  Won- 
derful it  is  that,  not  knowing  how  to  read  or  write,  such  words 
as  he  preaches  should  proceed  out  of  his  mouth!  "  At  any 
rate,  he  has  aroused  a  religious  feeling  among  the  people, 
even  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ponce  itself  and  while,  in  former 
times,  the  poorer  people  did  not  much  trouble  themselves  to 


Child    of    the    Sea [165]^ 

come  to  the  fiestas  of  the  church,  they  now  swarm  down  to  this 
little  church,  and  their  attitude  is  sincerely  devotional.  They 
truly  believe  that  Morales  is  a  man  sent  from  God,  and  they 
clothe  the  inane  words  he  is  said  to  speak  in  his  "  sermons," 
with  the  fervor  of  their  own  awakened  imagination  and  faith. 
He  is  not  here — only  the  priest  was  in  the  chapel  murmuring 
unintelligible  Latin  words  as  he  swiftly  and  mechanically 
"  crossed  "  the  forehead  of  each  suppliant  at  his  feet  with 
ashes.  Among  the  white-kerchiefed  heads,  there  were  others 
draped  in  black  veils  or  lace  mantillas  representing  the 
senoras  of  the  town.  How  much  or  how  little  does  this  wear- 
ing of  ashes  upon  the  brow  mean  to  them?  So  carnival  has 
ended  with  the  ashes,  and  Lent  begins  today. 

March  1.  1906. 

March  has  come  in  like  a  storming  lion,  if  only  a  Porto 
Rican  lion,  and  the  north  wind  blows  in  tepid  gusts  and  a  white 
mist  blots  out  the  mountains.  The  Giant  lies  tucked  under  one 
of  his  heaviest  blankets  today,  and  not  even  the  tip  of  his  nose — 
his  best  feature — is  visible. 

Yesterday,  I  walked  out  to  the  plantation  of  the  Cuban 
doctor's  cousins.     The  family  is  in  deepest  mourning,  having 

just  lost  a  grovm  son  under  tragic  circumstances.     Doiia 

and  the  girls  were  gentle  and  affectionate,  and  I  seemed  to  get 
closer  to  their  hearts  than  ever  before.  They  TPan/eJ  consola- 
tion, for  it  seems  they  have  found  none.  I  tried  to  give  the 
mother  comfort,  telling  her  of  where  I  have  so  often  found  it, 
and  where  many  in  Porto  Rico  are  finding  it,  and  they  promised 
to  read  John's  Gospel  which  I  left  with  them.  They  are 
"  good  Catholics,"  but  I  suppose  no  one  here  would  think  of 
turning  to  the  priest  for  comfort — another  gamester  of  notori- 
ous reputation.     The  S family  are  refined,  educated  peo- 


[166]  Child    of    the    Sea 

pie.  The  father  tells  me  that  the  hurricane  of  six  years  ago 
destroyed  twenty  of  their  tenants'  houses,  and  most  of  the  cof- 
fee, along  with  the  shading  trees,  and  he  has  never  been  able 
to  reinstate  himself  and  get  the  estate  in  order,  so  the  skeleton 
drying-frames  for  the  coffee-berries  still  stretch  empty,  useless 
arms  from  beneath  the  big  dwelling-house. 

Sunday,  March  4,  1 906. 

My  last  Sunday  here — a  beautiful  one.  What  a  children's 
work  might  be  built  up  here,  if  one  might  only  sia:^! 

March  6.  1906. 

I  do  not  know  what  I  should  do  for  reading  if  remaining 
longer  in  Adjuntas,  for  the  evenings  are  long  in  my  room,  when 
there  are  no  cultos.  This  from  Stevenson's  "  El  Dorado  "  is 
apropos  of  my  plight,  having  brought  few  books  in  the  wee 
trunk : 

One  who  goes  touring  afoot  with  a  single  volume  in  his  knapsack  reads 
with  circumspection,  pausing  often  to  reflect,  and  often  laying  the  book 
down  to  contemplate  the  landscape  or  the  prints  in  the  inn-parlor  [adver- 
tisements of  Pabst's  beer  in  choice  gilt  frames  and  the  Scott's  Emulsion 
boy  with  the  big  codfish!],  for  he  fears  to  come  to  an  end  of  his  enter- 
tainment  and  be   left   companionless   on    the   last   stages   of    his   journey. 

And  **  companionless  "  I  am  left  now,  although  I  brought  more 
than  "  a  single  volume  "  with  me! 


Child    of    the    Sea  [167] 


XVII 

Not  in  the  solitude 
Alone,  may  man  communicate  with  Heaven,  or  see 

Only  in  savage  wood 
And  sunny  vale  the  present  Deity; 

Or  only  hear  his  voice 
Where  the  winds  whisper  and  the  waves  rejoice. 

Even  here,  do  I  behold 
Thy  steps.  Almighty! — here  amid  the  crowd 

Through  the  great  city  rolled 
With  everlasting  murmur  deep  and  low. 

— Bryant. 


Aboard  the  S.  S.  Coamo, 

FOR  Porto  Rico,  Atlantic  Ocean, 

September  23,  1906. 

MISS  Alice  Shorey,  of  Baltimore,  Md.,  has  been 
appointed  in  Miss  G.'s  place  to  work  with  me  in 
Ponce,  and  she  hurried  to  get  ready  to  come  away 
from  home  to  the  Island  with  me.  She  is  bright-eyed  and 
cheerful  and  a  good  sailor. 

Rio  Piedras,  P.  R., 
September  27,  1906. 

We  finally  came  to  our  moorings  at  the  San  Juan  pier  last 
night — no  need  of  little  bobbing  boats  and  swarthy  boatmen 
to  take  us  to  the  shore  nowadays — and  I  think  a  thousand 
people  must  have  been  at  the  pier  to  welcome  the  ship's  arrival. 
Evidently,  they  had  come  down  on  a  moonlight  frolic,  and 
most  were  Porto  Ricans. 

Miss  S.   and  I  stayed  aboard,  while  every  one  else  went 

M 


[168] Child    of    the    Sea 

ashore.  It  was  ten  p.  m.,  and  we  knew  Miss  Hayes  was 
seven  miles  away,  here  in  Rio  Piedras.  The  night  was  still 
and  cool  on  the  water,  and  the  crew  did  not  begin  to  rattle 
the  donkey-engines  for  unloading  the  cargo  until  six  o'clock 
this  morning.  As  we  lay  in  our  berths,  it  seemed  good  to  be 
listening  to  roosters  crowing,  and  dogs  barking  ashore  on  the 
land  side,  while  the  water  softly  sucked  and  splashed  on  the 
other  side  about  the  ship. 

Miss  Hayes,  still  the  faithful  missionary  who  first  wel- 
comed me  to  the  Island  in  1899,  came  aboard  for  us  before 
breakfast,  and  we  shall  be  with  her  for  a  day  or  two  before 
traveling  on  by  train  and  carriage  to  Ponce. 

Adjuntas,  p.  R., 
September  30,  1906. 

A  lovely  blue  and  gold  day.  The  mountain  air  is  cool,  and 
our  one  day  here  has  been  full  to  the  brim,  and  it  is  my  birth- 
day. 

The  thirty-three-mile  drive  from  Arecibo  on  the  north  coast, 
where  we  left  the  train  from  San  Juan  and  took  the  mail- 
coach,  made  a  panorama  of  tropical  pictures.  Rocks  and 
ferns,  palms,  cascades,  cliffs,  and  a  river,  all  fresh  and  beau- 
tiful from  the  rains,  enchanted  Miss  S.  to  my  full  satisfaction. 

The  small,  new  church  is  finished,  standing  in  its  sturdy 
stucco  where  the  green,  frame  storehouse  used  to  be.  These 
chapels  seem  to  be  built  by  magic,  when  one  is  not  by  to  see. 
But  they  always  mean  untold  labor  and  worry  on  the  part  of 
the  missionary-in-charge  of  the  district. 

After  morning  service,  today,  we  went  to  see  a  little  dying 
girl,  baptized  two  months  ago.  She  knew  me  and  could  speak, 
and  they  told  me  she  had  been  afraid  she  would  die  before  I 
came.  It  has  been  good  to  be  once  more  among  these  dear 
people  where  the  Giant  sleeps. 


Child    of    the    Sea [169] 

Tomorrow,  at  seven  a.  m.,  we  must  continue  our  drive  down 
to  Ponce. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
October  8,   1906. 

Very  hot  weather.  My  horse,  used  for  country  mission 
work  while  I  was  away,  is  still  in  the  hills  and  I  "  go  walk- 
ing! " 

I  am  more  than  thankful  to  have  been  at  home  when  my 
precious  Sister  died  in  August.  And  now,  I  am  glad  to  be 
here  again  where  my  life's  work  seems  to  be.  Miss  S. 
declares  that  one  need  never  be  depressed  or  homesick  after 
visiting,  from  house  to  house,  with  the  missionary.  We  had 
made  a  round  of  visits,  and  she  said  the  unwholesome-looking 
shacks  and  crowded  alleyways  made  our  plain  cottage  seem 
restful  and  homelike  to  her. 

October  23.  1906. 

Yesterday,  I  saw  the  pastor's  new  baby,  a  tiny,  perfect 
little  creature,  three  days  old.  When  I  came  in  this  afternoon 
I  was  thunderstruck  at  finding  Don  Ramon's  note  telling  me 
that  this  second  little  one,  Louisa  Raquel,  was  dead!  At 
once,  I  went  to  them,  and  found  even  the  dear,  faint  little 
mother  comforted  with  God's  own  comfort  as  when  the  first 
Raquel  died.  What  an  example  of  fine.  Christian  courage 
these  dear  young  people  are  giving  to  those  about  us  who  are 
groping  in  the  mists  of  superstition  and  sorrow  and  despair! 

The  baby  must  have  had  some  affection  of  the  brain,  for  we 
noticed  a  spasmodic  movement  of  the  arm  yesterday  as  I  held 
the  pretty  little  creature  in  my  arms. 

October  24,  1906. 

My  horse  has  come  home,  feeble  and  lean.     S hitched 

him  to  the  phaeton  today,  for  the  first  time,  to  take  Don  Ramon 


[170]  Child    of    the    Sea 

to  the  cemetery.     The  father  would  not  let  strange  hands  carry 
the  tiny  white  casket  and  lay  it  in  the  grave. 

Novembers,  1906. 

The  6th  was  election  day  and  again  Ponce  "  went  Union- 
ist," as  did  other  towns  of  importance,  but  not  all.  In  an 
evening  procession  celebrating  the  victory  and  composed  of  a 
rabble  of  men  and  women,  I  saw  a  large  United  States  flag 
carried  upside  down!  What  would  President  Roosevelt  say 
to  that?  He  is  to  visit  Porto  Rico  now,  on  his  homeward  way 
from  Panama. 

I  have  been  told  a  story  of  the  elections  which  would 
be  amusing  if  it  were  not  so  true  a  witness  to  the  real  igno- 
rance of  the  country  people  as  to  the  drift  of  affairs,  and  to 
the  weakness  of  poor  humanity  at  any  stage.  The  Republi- 
cans worked  very  hard  in  Ponce  and  in  the  country  districts 
around,  and  on  the  day  before  election  they  brought  in  num- 
bers of  clean,  barefooted  peasants,  housing  them  in  a  high- 
fenced,  vacant  lot,  stuffing  them  not  only  with  beans  and  rice, 
but  also  with  radiant  party  promises.  And  then  they  waked 
on  the  eventful  morning,  to  find  that  every  man  of  those  voters 
had  been  bought  over  during  the  night  by  the  Unionists,  for 
slightly  more  radiant  promises  and — shoes!  The  peasants 
found  their  way  homeward,  after  voting  union'isias,  in  the 
moral  and  physical  condition  to  be  imagined.  I  suppose  that 
election  gains  and  loss,  here,  are  won  by  the  same  methods, 
more  or  less,  as  those  practised  in  other  countries. 

So  we  have  again  the  same  mayor  of  the  past  two  years. 
The  streets  are  being  swept  every  day,  and  not  only  by  the 
trade-wind  just  now  at  first.  And  the  city  hall,  alcaldia,  has 
been  repainted  for  President  Roosevelt. 

On  Sunday,  Don  R.  baptized  three,  and  there  was  the 
Lord's  Supper  at  night.     Many  were  absent.    These  seem  to 


Child    of    the    Sea     [171] 

be  days  of  testing  for  our  people.  There  was  not  a  quorum  at 
the  business-mealing,  Tuesday  night,  as  the  election  returns 
were  expected  at  any  moment.  We  who  know  frailty  in  our- 
selves are  ready  to  understand  much  in  these  whom  we  are 
hoping  to  uplift,  but,  as  Don  Ramon  says,  it  is  time  for  them 
to  be  learning  that  there  is  no  clash  in  duties.  Something  like 
this,  he  tells  them:  Let  us  know  for  what  political  party  we 
stand,  hear  its  discussions,  and  vote  as  good  citizens,  leaving 
the  sordid  all-night  carousings  and  street-screaming  to  those 
who  have  not  learned  the  mind  of  Christ. 

November  26,  1906.      , 

This  season  of  the  year  Is  always  dangerous,  following  on 
the  heated  end  of  the  rainy  season.  Gusty,  chilly  winds  blow 
from  the  north  and  east,  and  the  Islanders  go  down  before  la 
grippe  like  grain  under  the  scythe.  This  is  the  beginning  of 
much  of  the  "  consumption  "  of  the  throat  and  lungs,  which 
before  the  ending  of  another  year  will  carry  off  scores  of 
underfed,  anemic  people  to  the  cemetery. 

Mr.  Roosevelt  spent  the  twentieth  and  twenty-first  In  the 
Island,  mostly  in  rapid  transit.  Coming  from  Panama  In  a 
battle-ship,  he  landed  at  La  Playa  and  spent  two  hours  in 
Ponce,  at  once.  Then,  crossing  the  Island  by  automobile,  he 
paused  a  few  moments  at  each  of  the  towns  strung  along  the 
Military  Road.  Back  he  came  the  next  day  from  San  Juan, 
by  rail  and  the  new  coach  road,  as  Miss  S.  and  I  traveled 
two  months  ago,  and  boarding  the  ship  again,  without  stopping 
this  time  In  Ponce,  he  is  I  suppose  at  this  moment  nearing  New 
York!     Presidents  cannot  loiter  as  other  tourists  do. 

January  17,  1907. 

Breezy,  cool,  sunshiny  days,  fit  for  work.  Since  my  poor 
horse  Brownie  died,  at  last,  after  three  weeks  of  attempted 


[172] Child    of    the    Sea 

"  cures,"  I  have  tramped  the  long  streets  from  end  to  end, 
north,  east,  south,  and  west  on  rather  rheumatic  feet. 

Note,  apropos  of  some  visits  of  discipUna  among  our  flock: 
It  is  easy  to  sit  and  sing  oneself  away,  in  a  well-ordered  chapel, 
hard  to  take  up  the  intimate  concerns  of  daily  life  in  sordid 
surroundings,  and  ^eep  one's  oii;n  feet  and  fingers  out  of  the 
mucfi.  We  must  be  lenient  in  judgment,  yes,  but  unwearying 
in  leading  and  uplifting  toward  the  light. 

February  22.  1907. 

Last  week,  I  began  reading  **  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  in  the 
women's  Monday  evening  hour.  This  will  be  the  third  read- 
ing of  the  book  in  Spanish  to  some  who  have  fairly  gulped  it 
dovsTi  with  ears  and  epes/ 

June  30,  1907. 

Troubled  in  these  days  by  certain  happenings  among  our 
people.  There  is  much  illness  besides,  fevers,  pneumonia,  con- 
sumption. I  was  not  troubled  over  the  death  of  a  young 
man  last  week  though  grieving  over  his  suffering,  for  the  last 
months  of  Eladio's  long,  weary  illness  of  the  lungs  brought  him 
to  Christ,  and  he  was  even  glad  to  die.  When  I  last  saw  him, 
a  few  hours  before  the  end,  he  could  still  smile  gently  and  say 
"  Lea,"  read.  He  wore  a  most  lovely  expression  of  counte- 
nance. There  was  no  one  near  to  lament  his  going,  as  he  had 
no  home,  and  had  been  cared  for  by  a  member  of  the  church. 
Such  quiet,  hopeful  deaths  preach  sermons  among  Roman 
Catholic  neighbors. 

One  of  the  girls  in  the  industrial  class  in  La  Playa  has  been 
taken  violently  ill.  Tuta  is  a  good,  gentle  child  of  fifteen  years. 
She  recognized  me  yesterday,  but  was  unable  to  speak.  She 
cannot  live,  and  my  heart  aches  for  the  mother  who  must  lose 
her  one  little  daughter. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [173] 


July  8,  1907. 

She  died  after  three  days  of  pernicious  fever. 

And  now  I  must  be  thinking  of  going  to  Barros,  for  a  long 
visit.  Miss  S.  will  be  in  Adjuntas,  and  we  shall  close  the 
cottage.  Our  good  Porto  Rican  women  are  left  to  do  the 
teaching  for  a  while,  and  the  cool  mountain  air  will  make  us 
both  new  again. 


174]  Child    of    the    Sea 


XVIII 

I  stood  upon  the  hills,  when  heaven's  wide  arch 
Was  glorious  with  the  sun's  returning  march. 

If  thou  art  worn  and  hard  beset 

With  sorrows,  that  thou  wouldst  forget. 

If  thou  wouldst  read  a  lesson,  that  will  keep 

Thy  heart  from  fainting  and  thy  soul  from  sleep. 

Go  to  the  woods  and  hills!      No  tears 

Dim  the  sweet  look  that  Nature  wears. 

— Longfellow. 

Americans*  Home,  Barros,  P.  R., 
July  21,  1907. 

For  my  small  corner  of  the  world — 
Blue  sea,  blue  sky,  and  pale  green  sod. 
And  noble  mountains   glistening  mistily — 
I  thank  thee,  God! 

THREE  horses  abreast,  galloping  up-hill  as  well  as 
down,  with  three  changes  at  the  posting-stations,  brought 
me,  in  Don  Victor's  guagua^,  to  Coamo  in  three  hours. 
Early  the  next  morning,  after  the  night  spent  with  dear  little 
Miss  G.  in  the  Troyers'  house,  I  set  out  alone  for  the  long 
drive  to  Barros.  Four  hours  over  the  beautiful  upward  road, 
shaded  by  flamhoydn  trees  in  brilliant  scarlet  flower,  and  man- 
goes and  palms,  brought  me  to  Barranquitas.  My  coachman, 
horses,  and  carriage  were  all  good  ones,  and  I  rested  per- 

*The  derivation  of  this  queer  word  is  not  clear.  But  it  is  probably 
from  the  English  word  wagon,  for  guagua  meant  a  long-bodied  wagon 
with  several  seats,  used  as  a  stage. 


Child    of    the    Sea [V^ 

fectly  during  the  drive,  with  no  need  to  talk,  and  with  very 
Httle  thought  about  anything.  At  B.  I  lunched  and 
rested  in  the  house  of  my  old  friends  with  whom  I  have  so 
often  stopped.  Then,  engaging  another  carriage  and  driver, 
I  left  for  Barros  at  half  past  three  by  the  new  road,  for  three 
more  hours  of  climbing.  The  fine  highway,  too  narrow  but 
well  built,  is  about  finished  as  far  as  Barros,  and  my  progress, 
dashing  around  curves  and  along  perilous  edges  of  precipices, 
was  very  unlike  the  leisurely  hammock  trip  of  three  years  ago, 
by  short  cuts  over  the  trail.  The  scenery  is  lovely  now — long, 
green,  velvety  ribs  of  the  mountains  stretch  down  into  the 
valley  quite  to  the  little  river  Rowing  by,  with  the  slim  shadows 
of  the  royal  palms  streaming  across  the  green. 

I  had  expected  to  be  met  by  a  horse  and  some  one  to  escort 
me  the  rest  of  the  way  from  a  point  a  kilometer  or  two  outside 
of  Barros.  For  I  had  heard  that  the  road  was  not  yet  fit 
for  a  carriage  entrance  into  town,  as  one  or  two  bridges  over 
ravines  are  not  finished,  and  the  blasting  of  a  cliff  is  still  going 
on.  But  instead  of  a  horse  and  rider,  several  "  brethren  " 
afoot  were  waiting  for  me  near  the  end,  with  a  crowd  of  boys 
and  girls  in  high  feather,  all  intent  upon  my  driving  quite  into 
town,  the  first  woman  to  enter  on  wheels — the])  would  make  it 
possible! 

For  nearly  an  hour  we  labored  on.  A  dozen  times  I  alighted 
on  my  aching  ankle — sprained  last  Sunday  in  Ponce  by  slip- 
ping on  a  mango  seed — at  places  too  risky  and  rough  for  even 
an  empty  coach.  Twice  the  men  unhitched  the  horses,  and 
led  them  down  steep  places  to  ford  the  streams  below,  while 
several  rolled  the  carriage  by  hand  over  the  skeleton  bridges 
on  planks  which  they  laid  across  the  beams.  Huge  masses  of 
rock  blocked  the  road  in  some  places,  the  precipice  falling 
sheerly  off  from  the  outside  edge  of  the  way.  The  children 
scampered  behind  the  carriage  with  glee,  sv/arming  into  it,  over 


[176] Child    of    the    Sea 

it,  under  it,  everywhere,  whenever  it  stopped  for  us  to  enter  it 
again. 

At  last,  we  came  to  the  finish  in  triumph,  and  dashed  into 
towTi,  the  carriage  full  inside,  and  small  boys  perched  on  the 
steps  and  atop  the  little  trunk  strapped  on  behind,  with  the 
town  all  turned  out  to  see. 

Only  that  morning,  two  carriages  had  come  In,  ahead  of 
me,  the  very  first  ever  to  enter  Barros  and  full  of  men.  The 
town  took  holiday  and  was  wild  with  excitement.  A  perfect 
mob  swarmed  about  Tia's  inn,  so  that  we  could  not  drive 
quite  to  the  door.  Must  my  entries  here  be  spectacular  always? 
Dear  little  Barros  has  enough  of  nervous  electricity  to  light 
the  dark,  little  town!  Of  course,  if  I  had  ridden  horseback,  I 
should  have  come  peacefully  pacing  into  town  this  afternoon, 
without  notice,  as  the  men  missionaries  have  been  doing  for 
years,  but  the  fact  of  carriage  connection  with  the  outside 
world  being  actually  established  made  all  the  difference  last 
Friday,  and  for  "  Dorla  Juanita  "  to  be  the  "  first  "  woman 
again  had  quite  intoxicated  the  little  church. 

The  village  priest,  a  young  Frenchman,  has  my  old  room 
overlooking  the  chapel  roof  and  I  have  taken  the  one  on  the 
other  side  of  the  parlor-dining-room.  The  priest  is  ill  with 
malarial  fever,  and  not  only  must  his  room  be  kept  shut  up 
tight  and  dark,  but  the  public  reception-room  also,  where  one 
sits  and  eats,  is  closed  to  the  air,  as  much  as  possible,  and  is  a 
dreary  place  enough.  But  my  own  little  comer  cubby  is  light 
and  airy,  as  I  keep  the  solid  shutters  open  day  and  night. 
What  if  an  open  sewer-ditch  passes  directly  under  my  window 
— above  stirs  the  sweet  mountain  air! 

It  seems  odd  for  this  poor  sick,  homeless,  wifeless  priest  to 
be  living  under  the  same  roof  as  the  Protestant  missionary.  If 
he  pleases,  he  can  listen  to  the  sermons  preached  in  the  heretic 
chapel  almost  within  touch  of  his  hands  from  the  window,  «nd 


Child    of    the   Sea Ijm 

he  cannot,  if  he  would,  help  hearing  the  strenuous  singing,  even 
though  his  soHd  shutters  are  kept  hermetically  closed.  Every 
day,  his  parishioners  come  to  see  him  in  his  dark,  airless,  can- 
dle-lighted little  chamber.  Even  girls  go  in  to  ask  for  his  bless- 
ing, poor  young  things! 

July  23,  1907. 

Yesterday  our  girls  came  to  begin  their  Bible  study,  and  the 
bedquilt  piecing.  None  of  them  need  me  to  teach  them  to  sew. 
I  should  say  not !  But  stitching  the  bright  blocks  helps  to  pass 
a  half  hour  of  conversation  for  our  mutual  acquaintance  and 
the  bedquilt  is  to  be  given  to  some  needy  body.  They  are 
loyal,  affectionate  young  things,  some  perhaps  lovably  senti- 
mental. One  cried  a  few  nights  ago  because  she  thought  of 
the  time,  she  said,  when  I  should  be  going  away  again.  She 
says  this  keeps  her  from  enjoying  my  visit! 

I  think  they  need  a  Christian  woman  friend  to  live  among 
them,  training  and  broadening  them,  as  they  are  in  a  minority 
here,  apart  and  different  from  the  other  girls  who  were  once 
their  associates.     They  are  made  to  feel  this  keenly  sometimes. 

A  widow  lives  in  the  rooms  behind  our  chapel  and  cares 
for  it.  This  morning  her  little  ailing  son  died.  Four  girls  bore 
the  tiny  white  coffin  between  them  to  the  cemetery,  and  the 
Sunday  School  tramped  along  with  it.  There  was  some  of  the 
usual  careless  behavior  along  the  way  as  others,  not  of  the 
mission,  joined  us,  laughing  and  talking  as  they  straggled  along. 
There  was  the  customary  oration  at  the  cemetery  gate,  where 
we  all  stopped  to  hear  thanks  given  by  some  one  appointed 
to  do  this,  for  the  attention  of  friends  in  the  funeral  procession. 
Later,  little  boys  and  girls  of  "  Ours  "  sang  "  Around  the 
Throne  of  God  in  Heaven  "  almost  too  merrily  about  the  wee 
grave,  holding  in  their  hands  green  branches  broken  from  shrubs 
in  the  cemetery  which  they  afterward  stuck  into  the  broken  earth 


[178]  Child    of    the    Sea 

around  the  grave.  The  poor  baby  was  afflicted  and  senseless, 
and  his  death  was  a  mercy,  but  the  mother  misses  his  little 
cries  tonight  and  grieves  as  mothers  do. 

July  25,  1907. 

Nine  years  ago  today,  our  soldiers  entered  Porto  Rico  at 
Guanica.  Except  that  government  offices  are  closed,  there  is 
no  sign  of  the  holiday  here  today,  and  showers  of  rain  pour 
down  upon  us.  I  have  been  too  sleepy  all  day  to  hold  my  eyes 
open — a  toxic  condition  caused  by  improper  food  £ind  mala- 
rial infection.     The  heat  at  noontime  is  intense. 

There  is  a  slight  epidemic  of  fever  in  the  town,  but  the  priest 
is  getting  belter,  and  now  sits  pallid  and  listless  in  the  outer 
room.  As  the  drinking-water  for  the  public  stands  in  an 
earthen  jar  on  a  shelf  in  this  unventilated  room,  I  boil  my  own 
in  a  tiny  kettle  over  my  alcohol-lamp. 

Don  Pancho's  Country-house, 
CuLEBRAS  District,  beyond  Barros, 
August  4.  1907. 

Don  Pancho's  wife  and  eldest  son  are  earnestly  studying 
the  Bible,  the  latter  having  a  pretty  wife  and  baby  in  Barros. 
They  have  had  visits  from  Mr.  Rudd,  and  they  have  prac- 
tically accepted  the  gospel,  having  had  the  missionary  at  the 
country-house  for  services  more  than  once.  As  my  stay  is 
ending  in  Barros,  I  accepted  Dona  Justina's  invitation  to  ride 
out  to  Culebras  and  spend  a  week  with  her  family.  Doiia 
J.  wants  to  understand  better  many  points  she  is  interested  in 
and  for  this  wished  me  to  come. 

So  yesterday,  Don  Francisco,  the  married  son,  mounted  me 
on  a  little  horse  in  Barros,  and  himself  escorted  me  over  the 
mountains.  For  days  beforehand,  the  trip  had  been  discussed 
in  my  hearing  by  all  the  outside  friends,  as  villagers  will  dis- 


Child    of    the    Sea [Vm 

cuss  in  neighborly  fashion.  Most  agreed  that  it  would  be  a 
risky  attempt  for  me,  for  it  is  considered  one  of  the  difficult 
journeys  hereabouts.  Even  good  horsemen  sometimes  find  the 
almost  perpendicular  descent  into  the  valley  on  the  other  side 
of  the  mountain  most  trying  and  excessively  fatiguing,  emd 
some  called  it  appalling  for  a  kidy. 

As  I  mounted  at  the  door,  the  street  comer  w^as  filled  with 
friendly  well-v\'^ishers.  One  clasped  her  hands  as  I  rocle 
off  bravely.  "A}),  la  pobre!  "  she  cried,  "Alas!  the  poor 
thing!  "  suggesting  that  I  might  be  riding  gaily  to  my  doom. 
Most  of  this  sympathy,  I  knew,  was  secretly  prompted  by  their 
knowledge  of  my  small  experience  in  riding,  for  all  these  hill 
people  ride  without  fear.  And  I  determined  not  to  let  their  dis- 
trust of  me  make  me  show  the  white  feather,  so  off  I  went 
gaily,  Don  F.  alongside  on  a  beautiful,  prancing  steed,  and  the 
peon  riding  close  behind. 

At  the  top  of  the  ridge,  after  a  while,  before  beginning  the 
steep  descent  into  the  very  bottom  of  the  valley,  we  came  to  a 
fine  stretch  of  turfy  fields,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
I  had  a  rollicking  canter  on  horseback.  A  rocking-chair's 
motion  could  not  have  been  easier  than  my  pretty  pony's  pac- 
ing, and  Don  F.  was  proud  of  my  staying  in  the  saddle — of 
course  a  side-saddle! 

If  the  peon  had  not  walked  at  my  horse's  head,  holding  the 
bridle,  and  if  I  had  not  been  assured  that  the  horse  was  the 
pick  of  the  ladies'  mounts  from  Don  Pancho's  stable  and  as 
sure-footed  as  a  mountain-goat,  that  narrow,  rocky  trail  down, 
down  the  mountain  would  have  been  impossible  for  me.  There 
was  possibly  no  danger  at  all,  but  today  I  sit  and  look  out 
of  my  windov/,  straight  up  and  up,  where  the  trail  winds  some- 
times on  the  dizzy  razorback  edge  of  a  ridge  with  precipices 
falling  steeply  away  on  each  side,  and  wonder  how  I  am  ever 
to  get  to  the  top  of  that  awful  grade  again ! 


[180]  Child    of    the    Sea 


Augusts.  1907. 

Don  P.'s  plantation  is  mostly  of  coffee,  several  mountain- 
sides belonging  to  him  being  covered  v/ith  the  groves  shading 
the  coffee-trees.  Water  from  a  cool,  mountain  spring  is  piped 
down  to  the  house  in  abundance.  The  dwelling  is  very  large, 
of  two  stories  with  verandas,  and  furnished  most  comfortably. 
Don  P.  has  shown  me  the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  where 
the  coffee  is  stored  before  it  is  sent  up  over  the  mountain 
by  pack-mules.  Also,  sugar  and  bacon  and  all  manner  of 
necessities  are  stored  there,  for  family  use,  and  even  straw  hats 
for  the  hired  men  and  tenants. 

There  is  a  piano  in  the  large  parlor,  up-stairs  where  the 
dwelling-rooms  are,  and  how  ever  did  it  get  there  from  the 
world  above?  In  the  kitchen,  there  is  a  huge  platform,  waist- 
high,  in  the  center  of  the  room,  filled  with  earth,  on  which  fires 
are  kept  burning  continuously,  with  two  cooks  preparing  food 
for  the  twenty-one  persons — family  and  retainers  about  the 
house  alone — who  eat  under  this  roof  daily.  We  have  abun- 
dant meals,  and  pleasant  talk  about  the  table.  The  man  who 
serves  between  the  table  and  the  kitchen  is  a  dwarfish  deaf- 
mute,  uncanny  to  behold,  but  devoted  to  his  master.  The 
other  '*  retainers  "  have  their  special  offices,  one  boy's  sole  duty 
being  that  of  sitting  in  the  hall  of  the  upper  entrance  writh  a 
whip  to  keep  the  dogs  out!  These  are  legion  and  lie  in  wait 
on  the  ground  below,  and  up  and  down  the  outer  stairway, 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  slip  in  when  some  one  mounts  to  the 
entrance  doors  above. 

The  three  younger  daughters  of  the  house,  who  have  been 
attending  school  "  outside,"  are  at  home  and  make  things  most 
agreeable  for  me.  There  are  two  little  sons — one  a  scrap  of 
a  boy  who  plays  silently  alone,  in  out-of-the-way  corners,  all 
manner  of  games.     I  found  him  once  manipulating  a  little  box 


Child    of    the    Sea [m_ 

for  a  wagon,  to  which  was  very  ingeniously  yoked  a  team  of 
three  or  four  pairs  of  oxen  in  the  shape  of  large  mango  seeds. 
His  cries  of  Oosch!  Oosch!  as  he  guided  the  team  with  a 
goad,  was  perfectly  realistic. 

Now  a  little  granddaughter  has  been  brought  over  from  Bar- 
ros,  and  there  are  four  generations  under  the  roof.  For  the 
most  interesting  member  of  the  family,  after  all,  is  a  dear,  old 
great-grandmother  in  her  eighty-eighth  year.  She  is  full  of 
life,  and  is  a  devoted  Romanist,  sitting  on  her  bed  and  praying 
devotedly  at  night  when  she  cannot  sleep. 

All  the  simple,  wholesome  affairs  of  farm  life  go  on  below 
in  the  ample  premises,  and  the  peons  live  on  the  estate  round 
about.  The  cows  are  driven  up  to  the  front  of  the  house  at 
milkingtime,  to  be  under  the  mistress'  or  master's  eye,  and 
goblets  of  warm  milk  are  brought  up  to  us  on  the  veranda. 

August  9,  1907. 

I  find  Dona  J.  an  earnest  seeker  after  truth,  and  her  black 
eyes  shine  as  we  talk  together  of  the  beautiful  things  of  God, 
and  her  mind  at  least  is  entirely  convinced  that  his  plan 
for  the  redemption  of  man  is  the  only  one.  Both  of  these, 
Doiia  J.  and  her  son,  will  have  trials  enough  to  prove  their 
faith — indeed  trials  have  already  begun,  and  are  being  faith- 
fully borne. 

If  it  were  not  such  a  busy,  happy  household,  it  would  be 
lonely  here,  as  this  is  the  only  house  in  the  deep  valley,  I  be- 
lieve, except  those  of  Don  P.'s  tenants.  We  stand  on  the 
balconies  and  look  directly  up,  on  all  sides,  into  the  dark, 
green  mountain  heights,  and  to  me  it  seems  as  if  we  were  the 
last  people  left  alive  on  earth. 

In  the  evening,  we  sing  Spanish  hymns  from  the  books  they 
have  bought,  one  of  the  seiioritas  accompanying  us  on  the 
piano.     Outdoors  is  wrapped  in  utter  darkness,  except  for  the 


[182] Child    of    the    Sea 

gleaming  of  the  stars.  Mars  has  come  very  close  to  the  earth 
this  summer. 

May  this  whole  dear  family  come  to  know  Christ  fully,  and 
to  work  for  him  in  this  isolated  valley.  The  simple  life  of  the 
well-to-do  Porto  Rican  planter  seems  a  very  happy  life,  though 
even  Don  P.  speaks  of  "  better  times  "  and  the  greater  ease 
of  past  years. 

[The  son,  later,  became  one  of  our  most  useful  preachers, 
and  a  pastor  in  Coamo.  He  led  a  singularly  blameless  life. 
His  work  was  arduous,  as  there  were  outside  preaching-sta- 
tions to  be  visited  every  week,  with  crossings  at  dangerous 
fords  by  night,  in  the  rainy  season,  when  he  could  only  trust  to 
the  instinct  of  his  horse  for  going  in  safety  through  the  dark- 
ness and  the  river.  He  chose  the  life  of  a  mission  pastor,  when 
"  the  world,"  in  consideration  of  the  family's  means  and  posi- 
tion, offered  him  many  inducements  to  other  courses,  and  in  a 
few  years  he  died  true  to  his  faith  and  chosen  work.  ] 

Barros,  p.  R., 
August  10,  1907. 

Back  again  at  Tia's  for  a  few  days.  By  my  not  daring  to 
look  back  and  down  and  not  letting  my  giddy  head  get  the 
better  of  my  nerve,  the  pony  brought  me  safely  up  to  the  gate 
at  the  top  of  the  grade,  and  down  again  into  Barros,  tonight. 
The  chapel  was  already  lighted  for  service,  so  I  jumped  off 
and  went  straight  from  the  saddle  to  the  prayer-meeting,  rather 
shaky  and  disheveled. 

August  13,  1907. 

The  bedquilt  is  finished  and  is  to  be  given  to  a  crippled 
widow,  mother  of  seven  children,  in  Don  Pancho's  neighbor- 
hood, in  the  Culebras  district.     The  girls  have  been  given  a 


Child    of    the   Sea im 

written  exeiinination  on  John's  Gospel  and  have  done  re- 
markably well  in  their  thoughtful  answers. 

Tomorrow,  I  must  take  flight  again  over  the  new  road, 
cleared  now,  with  bridges  all  complete,  and  after  a  day  and 
night  in  Barranquitas  must  hie  me  on  to  Ponce. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
August  25,  1907. 

There  is  much  to  do  after  the  month  out  of  town.  Miss 
S.  is  still  in  Adjuntas  and  likes  it  there.     Ponce  is  hot  and  dry. 

This  morning  at  Sunday  School,  we  showed  the  children's 

tabernacle,   apropos  of  the  Bible  lesson.      Don   F ,   the 

superintendent,  confesses  that  he  never  before  could  understand 
what  manner  of  building  it  could  have  been,  with  its  boards 
and  posts  and  sockets  and  cords  and  curtains  manifold.  The 
little  model  can  be  taken  apart,  packed  in  parcels,  and  set  up 
again  on  short  notice. 

My  little  study  window  overlooks  an  abandoned  garden 
shut  in  by  high  walls  from  the  noisy  street — a  daily  joy.  Pink 
coral  vine  clambers  over  ruined  walls  inside,  a  big  nispero  tree 
shades  one  corner,  and  birds  flock  to  the  tree  for  the  sweet 
russet  fruit.  A  faint,  perfumed  air  stirs  the  vines  and  enters 
my  window,  now  and  then,  fresh  and  reviving,  after  the  dusty 
day  at  the  missions.  Now  I  shall  have  tea,  and  then  be  off 
in  the  cooling  dusk  to  evening  service.  Three  are  to  be  baptized 
tonight. 

August  27,  1907. 

These  days  are  given  to  visiting  and  teaching  some  who  wish 
to  be  baptized.  Some  eyes  must  be  opened  to  responsibilities 
too  carelessly  sought.  From  some  it  is  hard  to  have  frank  ex- 
pressions of  belief ;  from  others  we  have  clear,  convincing  state- 
ments that  do  our  hearts  good. 

N 


[184] Child    of    the    Sea 

Now,  I  shall  begin  a  correspondence  course  of  Bible  study 
for  some  of  the  young  women  who  live  in  out-of-the-way  places, 
whom  I  cannot  reach  personally.  There  are  a  few  in  the  out- 
station  churches  who  are  intelligent  and  persistent  enough  to 
go  through  with  such  a  course — not  many,  after  all.  If  they 
are  to  be  Sunday  School  teachers,  they  need  to  know  more 
than  their  own  reading  can  show  them.  It  will  mean  almost 
too  much  added  work,  so  much  hand-writing  every  month, 
even  with  carbon  copies,  but  it  must  be  gotten  in  somehow,  and 
Matilde  will  help. 


Child    of    the   Sea  [185] 


XIX 

And  as  the  evening  darkens,  lo!  how  bright 
Through  the  deep  purple  of  the  twilight  air 

Beams  forth  the  sudden  radiance  of  its  light, 
With  strange  unearthly  splendor  in  the  glare. 

The  mariner  remembers,  when  a  child 

On  his  first  voyage,  he  saw  it  fade  and  sink. 

And  when  returning  from  adventure  wild. 
He  saw  it  rise  again  on  ocean's  brink. 

— "  The  Lighthouse,"  Longfellotf. 

Ponce,  P.  R.. 
September  17,   1907. 

TWENTY-EIGHT  churches  of  "  Ours  "  were  repre- 
sented in  the  6th  annual  meeting  in  Yauco  which  closed 
yesterday.  Most  of  these  are  small,  and  poor  in  this 
world's  goods,  but  many  are  rich  in  faithfulness  and  hope,  the 
reports  from  country  churches  being  always  of  special  interest 
to  me.  The  sixteen  hundred  and  twenty-three  members  have 
contributed  two  thousand  and  twenty-three  dollars  and  ninety 
cents  ($2,023.90)  this  year.  Each  church  is  in  charge  of 
some  Porto  Rican  brother — in  some  cases  two  or  three  being 
under  one  man's  guidance.  The  four  American  missionaries- 
in-charge,  Messrs.  Rudd,  Humphrey,  Vodra,  and  Troyer, 
have  the  oversight  of  these  fields,  by  districts,  and,  as  yet,  but 
two  native  preachers  have  been  ordained. 

A  *'  living  picture,"  perfectly  unconscious  and  spontaneous, 
of  one  of  our  country  preachers  impressed  me  very  much.  The 
diligence  of  all  the  dele<^ates  was  notable,  and  my  heart  was 
jBore  stirred  by  their  absorbed  faces  and  the  earnestness  of 


[186] Child   of   the   Sea 

their  note-taking  than  by  any  of  the  discussions  and  "  papers." 
The  singing  too  was  really  delightful.  But  above  all,  I  was 
struck  by  the  loofi  on  M 's  face  as  he  led  one  of  the  devo- 
tional exercises  from  the  platform.  He  was  plainly  dressed, 
and  his  face  was  lined  and  rugged.  He  gave  out  the  hymn, 
"  Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul,"  in  Spanish,  and  the  rapt  look 
that  touched  his  face,  as  he  stood,  innocent  of  any  pose,  clasp- 
ing the  hymn-book  to  his  breast  as  he  sang,  was  a  revelation  of 
what  such  a  "  Lover  "  can  do  for  a  man.  Tears  filled  my  eyes 
as  I  watched  the  furrowed  face.  As  he  raised  his  eyes  to 
heaven  in  singing,  in  all  self-unconsciousness,  "  Other  refuge 
have  I  none,"  I  thought  of  the  revelations  he  had  made  to  me 
in  earlier  years,  of  how  the  Lord  had  raised  him  up  from  the 
very  muck  and  mire  and  had  set  his  feet  in  a  clean  place.  The 
transformation  showed  in  his  worn  but  peaceful  face,  and  the 
thought  of  the  patient  tramping  of  such  a  man's  feet — for  he 
goes  afoot  as  colporteur  and  preacher  up  and  down  the  hill- 
trails — makes  me  realize  the  prophet's  meaning  in  crying, 
"  How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  who 
bringeth  good  tidings! 

We  missed  Mr.  Troyer  from  the  meeting,  as  his  family 
has  returned  from  the  States  without  him,  leaving  him  to  seek 
health  for  a  year  in  the  far  West  of  the  United  States.  Miss 
Stassen  is  a  new  missionary  who  has  come  to  help  in  Mrs. 
Troyer's  school  in  Coamo,  and  two  other  young  women  have 
been  added  to  the  working  force  on  the  far  side  of  the  Island. 
We  were  almost  a  complete  family  in  Yauco. 

October  13,  1907. 

Miss  Shorey,  my  companion  in  the  mission  since  last  fall, 
has  been  ailing  for  some  time,  and  does  not  recuperate  from 
her  depression  and  discouragement.     She  sleeps  very  little,  and 


Child    of    the   Sea [187]^ 

I  believe  she  will  need  to  go  home  to  Baltimore,  if  she  is  to  re- 
cover her  vitality  and  poise.  The  doctor  advises  this,  but  it  is 
a  hard  step  for  her  to  take. 

Aboard  S.  S.  Ponce, 
FOR  New  York, 
October  30,   1907. 

We  embarked  at  noon,  yesterday,  from  La  Playa.  Today, 
we  are  steaming  easily  through  the  dark-blue  tropic  sea  under 
a  lovely  sky.  Miss  S.'s  case  has  given  me  much  anxiety, 
and  I  am  glad  to  be  taking  her  home  to  her  mother.  It  was 
hard  to  break  off  suddenly  from  work,  at  this  busiest  season, 
but  there  was  no  one  else  to  come  with  Miss  S.,  and  I  am 
to  return  on  this  same  ship,  as  soon  as  it  discharges  its  cargo 
and  reloads  at  the  Brooklyn  pier.  We  are  the  only  lady-pas- 
sengers, and  the  stewardess  and  doctor  are  unfailing  in  their 
attentions. 

Novembers.  1907. 

A  nip  of  the  North  in  the  air!  Miss  S.  rather  stronger, 
cats  with  a  good  appetite,  and  has  played  a  game  or  tA\'o  of 
dominoes  with  us. 

Today,  I  have  sent  a  wireless  message  from  off  the  Vir- 
ginia coast  to  her  father  in  Baltimore,  asking  for  some  one  to 
meet  us  at  the  pier  tomorrow.  Ten  words  "  wirelessed,"  two 
dollars. 

Aboard  the  S.  S.  Ponce  again, 
FOR  Porto  Rico,  Atlantic  Ocean, 
November  14,  1907. 

We  landed  on  the  4th  and  found  a  brother  of  Miss  S. 
waiting  on  the  pier  at  Brooklyn,  having  received  my  message 
from  the  ship,  the  night  before,  in  time  to  catch  a  train  for 
New  York. 


[188] Child   of   the   Sea 

After  five  days  ashore,  I  came  aboard  again  on  the  9th 
to  hurry  back  to  the  Island.  A  note  from  Mrs.  S.  received 
aboard  ship  before  sailing  tells,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  of  the  in- 
creasing illness  of  her  daughter. 

Four  American  Roman  Catholic  missionary-priests  are 
aboard,  bound  for  Porto  Rico. 

November  15,  1907. 

Land  in  sight!  The  Island  on  our  left,  the  black  peak  of 
El  Desecho  rock  lifted  out  of  the  waves,  on  our  right.  .  .  At 
sunset,  yesterday,  I  sat  in  a  comer  of  the  social  hall,  alone  but 
for  a  priest  reading  from  a  little  black  book.  Enters  another 
passenger,  Mr.  L ,  and  addresses  the  priest  without  see- 
ing me  in  my  dim  comer : 

"  Ah!  got  it  all  to  yourself  in  here,  have  you?  ** 
"  Yes,  taking  it  easy — getting  off  m);  praters!  '* 

Ponce,  P.  R.. 
December  4,    1907. 

This  afternoon,  after  two  hours  in  church  rehearsing  the 
children  for  the  end-of-the-year  entertainment,  I  went  to  see 
the  pastor's  new  baby.  This  little  one  was  born  in  St.  Luke's 
Hospital,  the  new  enterprise  of  the  Episcopal  mission,  and 
little  dark-eyed  Lucila  will  live — a  lusty  baby.  When  have  I 
ever  seen  such  richness  of  color  as  the  sunset  glory  bathed  the 
unlovely  streets  on  my  way  home?  A  planet  blazed  in  the 
west  through  the  deep  rose  and  gold  of  the  air,  and  there  was 
no  speck  of  cloud  to  be  seen  anywhere.  Now  the  stars  are 
lighting  the  moonless  sky  as  I  write.  Since  I  had  the  acacia 
branches  cut  away,  the  eastern  sky  is  clear  above  the  gable  of 
my  neighbor,  Don  Luis,  and  I  have  a  fine  view  from  my 
chamber  window  of  the  wonderful  winter  procession  of  rising 
constellations  every  night,  from  nine  o'clock  on.     Blue-bright 


Child   of   the   Sea im 

Vega  in  Lyra,  my  joy  all  summer,  is  low  in  the  northwest 
these  nights.  Fomalhaut  the  lonely  shines  in  the  far  south. 
Mars  is  still  retreating  from  the  earth,  after  his  nearest  ap- 
proach in  Sagittarius,  last  August.  We  used  to  watch  his 
glowing  red,  from  the  balcony  of  Don  Pancho's  house  away 
down  in  the  Culebras  valley.  The  book,  "  The  Friendly 
Stars,"  has  been  an  inspiration  during  the  past  months,  de- 
manding uplifted  eyes,  far-reaching  vision! 

Since  Miss  Shorey  went  away,  Matilde  sleeps  at  the  cottage 
every  night  to  keep  me  company.  A  nice  quiet  girl;  always 
thoughtful  for  my  comfort. 

December  13,  1907. 

Mrs.  S.  writes  from  Baltimore  that  her  daughter  Alice 
quietly  passed  away  on  December  3,  in  an  unconscious  condi- 
tion. At  last,  little  Miss  Shorey  is  "  satisfied,"  but  she  will 
be  missed  by  many  of  our  women  and  girls  among  whom  she 
was  winning  a  way,  as  she  was  learning  Spanish  with  unusual 
ease. 

The  topic-cards  for  the  women's  Bible  studies  are  ready, 
printed  by  Mr.  Humphrey  in  Caguas  on  his  mission  press,  and 
gay  with  varied  colors. 

Sunday,  December  29,  1907. 

There  were  ten  baptisms  tonight,  ending  a  beautiful  ser- 
vice for  the  beautiful  last  Sunday  of  the  year. 

Last  night,  six  of  the  ten  Sunday  School  teachers  (and 
supplies)  came  to  the  cottage  for  a  social  hour,  with  coffee, 
chocolate,  and  cakes  served  on  the  little  round  table.  Each 
chose  a  favorite  hymn  for  singing  at  the  end. 

I  spent  most  of  Christmas  Day  out  of  doors.  Old  sister 
Fela  was  dying  in  the  Tricoche  Hospital  and  perfectly  un- 


[190] Child   of    the   Sea 

conscious,  as  she  had  been  for  days,  as  I  stood  on  Christmas 
morning  for  a  few  moments  at  her  bedside  in  the  long  ward. 
The  brethren  of  La  Playa  Church  had  had  all  ready  for  her 
burial,  for  some  time,  in  order  that  the  poor  old,  wasted  body 
need  not  be  carried  in  the  "  Black  Maria  "  to  the  paupers* 
ground  and  given  an  unnamed  burial.  And  they  were  waiting 
for  the  message  to  be  sent  them,  so  there  was  nothing  more  I 
could  do  after  sending  them  word  of  the  end  at  hand. 

Then,  on  my  wheel,  I  kept  on  out  into  the  coimtry,  books, 
water-bottle,  and  luncheon  strapped  to  the  handle-bars.  For 
two  or  three  long,  restful  hours,  it  was  good  to  be  out  of  the 
tooting,  racketing,  honk-honking  streets,  in  the  quiet  coimtry. 

Where  man  in  the  bush  with  God  may  meet. 

Woe  to  man,  however,  if  He  were  not  also  to  be  met  in  the 
noisy,  cheerful  streets,  as  well!  But  it  was  there,  "in  the 
bush  "  that  I  wished  to  meet  him  that  day,  with  just  the  birds 
and  butterflies  for  company.  Later,  after  eating  my  sand- 
wiches, I  kept  on  to  the  settlement  at  Portugues  and  visited 
some  of  our  far-o£F  people  there,  living  among  the  plantains, 
Claudino  appeared  in  time  to  give  me  his  big,  strong  hand  for 
crossing  the  stepping-stones  of  the  river. 

In  the  evenmg  there  was  prayer-meeting  in  the  Ponce  church. 


December  31,  1907. 

Ten  p.  m.  The  music  of  the  New  Year's  ball  in  the  Casino 
close  by  sounds  merrily  as  I  write  the  date  of  the  last  day  of 
this  year. 

Some  mission  cares  press  heavily.  The  spirit  of  a  few  of 
our  people  distresses  us,  and  is  working  havoc  in  their  own 
lives.     How  much  Christ  had  to  bear  from  his  chosen  Twelve, 


Child   of   the   Sea [19n 

and  the  "  contradiction  of  sinners  against  himself,"  and  he  is 
still  bearing  it.  With  what  patience  and  wisdom  should  we — 
imperfect  teachers — treat  the  contradictions  of  these  new  Chris- 
tians ! 

Note.  Setting  one's  face  to  the  future  "  like  a  flint,"  in 
Isaiah's  way,  must  not  end  in  the  petrification  of  one's  heart ! 

January  1 ,  1 908. 

My  way  took  me  very  early  this  morning,  awheel,  through 
the  streets  of  the  Cantera  on  a  message  to  some  children  who 
must  come  for  rehearsal  tomorrow.  New  Year's  Day  is  not 
one  for  missionary  visiting.  Poor  and  desolate  indeed  is  the 
Ponceiian  today  who  cannot  go  out  to  walk  in  the  streets  or 
ride  on  the  electric-car,  in  new  clothes  and  hat,  or  at  the  very 
least  with  a  gay  new  ribbon  or  necktie.  I  found  even  the  early 
morning  world  decked  in  its  best  bib  and  tucker.  By  after- 
noon, the  streets  will  be  gay  vnth  pink,  blue,  yellow,  green,  and 
red  spots  of  color.  Every  mansion  and  shack  has  had  a  clean- 
ing, and  lace  curtains  hung  even  at  doorways  of  the  clean, 
little  houses  where  soap-shining  children  called  out  their  vocifer- 
ous Feliz  aho  nucvo,  as  I  pedaled  past. 

Caja  de  Muertos  Lighthouse, 
OFF  Porto  Rico, 
January  9.  1 908. 

My  head  was  too  tired  to  think,  after  the  Sunday  School 
Veladas  were  over,  and  the  New  Year's  work  taken  somewhat 
in  hand,  so  I  have  come  off  here  for  a  week's  rest  on  this 
rocky  islet  in  the  Caribbean  Sea,  nine  miles  from  La  Playa. 
One  of  the  two  lighthouses  guarding  the  roadstead  is  perched 
on  the  top  of  this  rock  rising  from  the  midst  of  coral  reefs. 


[192] Child   of   the  Sea 

I  have  many  books  with  me,  material  for  the  preparation  of 
the  girls'  correspondence  lessons  for  next  month,  and  provisions 
to  last  for  a  week. 

January  14.  1908. 

An  exquisitely  pure,  fresh  morning,  with  no  dust  from  the 
sea  playing  about  the  rock!  I  can  understand  that  life  here  for 
months  at  a  time  would  grow  monotonous,  but  it  is  full  of 
daily  interest  for  me.  The  lighthouse  keepers  have  been  most 
courteous  and  remind  me  of  the  sea-captains  I  have  known,  of 
the  kind  who  see  God's  hand  in  the  sky  and  the  waves.  The 
chief  keeper  of  this  Island  Light  is  brother  of  the  keeper  of 
Cardona  Light  across  the  roadstead. 

The  lamp  in  the  high,  round  tower  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff 
must  be  kept  with  exquisite  care.  Soft,  clean  cloths  are  used 
for  every-day  polishing  of  the  lenses  of  the  huge,  prismatic, 
crystal  bell  enclosing  the  lamp.  The  winking  eye  of  the  light 
must  never  really  close  from  six  p.  m.,  until  six  a.  m.,  though 
from  a  distance  it  had  always  seemed  to  me,  at  nine  miles  away, 
to  open  every  three  minutes,  and  close.  I  know  now  that  this 
winking  effect  is  caused  by  the  revolving  of  the  great  crystal 
bell  about  the  stationary  lamp;  certain  of  the  panels  of  glass 
permit  the  light  to  shine  constantly  over  the  nearer  waters 
round  about,  while  the  gleam,  passing  through  other  lenses  as 
the  bell  revolves,  streams  many  miles  out  to  sea  every  three 
minutes  and  over  to  us  at  La  Playa.  Everything  in  the  light- 
house, from  the  lamp  above  and  the  little  motor-engine  below 
which  causes  the  bell  to  revolve,  to  the  small  brass  knobs  on 
the  doors,  shines  spotlessly. 

Overhead  is  the  arching  sky,  absolutely  unobstructed  for  star- 
gazing at  night  by  roof  gables  or  trees,  and  below  is  the  chang- 
ing sea,  sometimes  heaving  in  glassy  swells,  often  ribbed  and 
*'  watered,"  green,  purple,  silver,  bronze,  blue,  as  the  currents 


Child    of    the    Sea  [193] 

and  the  winds  and  the  sunlight  change,  at  times  seeming  a 
petrified,  corrugated,  azure  floor.  There  is  no  noise,  only  the 
plashing  of  the  water  on  the  narrow  beach  far  below,  and  the 
nights  are  full  of  peace. 

Last  night's  reading  in  Mabie's  "  Meaning  and  Message  of 
the  Cross  "  gave  me  deep  thoughts  of  a  "  potentially  saved 
humanity!  "  And  is  every  man  and  woman  and  child  I  meet 
a  "  potentially  saved  *'  one,  only  waiting  for  the  spark  which 
is  to  bring  actual  redemption?  What  a  responsibility  for  one 
who  believes  this? 

January  15,  1908. 

Pepe,  the  assistant  keeper  of  the  light,  has  been  with  me 
down  the  steep  cliff  to  the  beach,  and  I  have  found  lovely 
stones  and  sea-urchin  shells,  and  bits  of  coral  and  wonderful 
filigree  seaweed.  It  is  a  wild  and  rugged  coast  seaward,  and 
we  have  had  one  stormy  night  with  a  booming  sea  pounding 
the  rocks  down  below. 

I  have  found  Aries  in  Triangulum,  from  a  neck-breaking 
angle  of  vision,  in  the  brilliant  night  sky.  The  strangeness  of 
the  sensation  of  standing  alone,  in  the  night,  on  a  peak  of  rock 
in  the  sea!  If  I  were  a  hermit,  my  mountain  peak  should  be 
one  standing  straight  up  out  of  the  ocean.  But  I  should  like 
to  have  one  or  two  of  these  charcoal-burners*  little  huts  down 
on  the  shore  for  the  company  of  the  women  and  their  babies ! 

Tomorrow  I  must  leave  the  lighthouse. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
January  16,   1908. 

It  was  a  small  gasoline  boat  that  carried  me  over  to  the 
lighthouse  a  week  ago,  but  I  came  pelting  home  today  in  a  big 
sailboat  which  had  brought  mail  and  supplies  to  the  rock. 
Pepe  having  business  in  Ponce  came  with  me,  and  with  the 


[194] Child    of    the    Sea 

wife  of  one  of  the  charcoal-burners  we  were  the  only  passen- 
gers. Trade-wind  astern,  we  dashed  through  the  waves  at 
high  speed,  sitting  atop  the  roof  of  the  wee  cabin  and  clinging 
for  our  lives  to  whatever  we  could  lay  hands  upon.  .  .  Vidal 
was  waiting,  with  the  cottage  aired  and  open  and  lunch  under 
way,  which,  later  on,  Pepe  shared  with  me. 

January  25,  1908. 

Little  black  Leocadia  is  dying  of  tuberculosis  of  the  throat. 
Though  her  breathing  is  distressing,  she  could  tell  me  this  morn- 
ing that  her  hope  was  in  Christ,  and  I  cannot  doubt  it.  She 
was  baptized  long  ago,  one  of  the  first  of  the  young  people  re- 
ceived into  the  church,  and  she  has  tried  to  live  as  a  Christian, 
amid  many  difficulties.  Certainly,  there  has  not  been  brought 
against  her  life  the  accusation  too  frequently  heard  today 
against  even  some  of  those  who  have  seemed  to  stand  for  better 
things. 

February  7,  1908. 

She  died,  and  the  hermanos  y  hermanas  buried  her  decently 
in  the  big  new  civil  cemetery.  .  .  This  afternoon  I  sat  at  the  feet, 
so  to  speak,  of  a  little  old  lady  of  seventy  years  and  saw  that 
she  might  lead  me  closer  to  Jesus'  feet.  She  is  too  feeble  and 
dim-eyed  now  to  go  to  the  mission  church  alone,  but  she  reads 
a  little  at  home  and  understands,  living  alone  in  her  cabin  a 
long,  long  way  from  the  church.  She  told  me  of  her  child- 
hood, of  her  father  who  always  taught  his  little  ones  to  re- 
frain from  the  sharp  word  of  resentment. 

I  am  often  surprised  at  finding  memory  remnants  of  truly 
Christian  teaching  of  parents  in  the  minds  of  some  who  talk 
with  me.  All  of  these  were,  of  course,  Roman  Catholics,  but 
in  spite  of  error  they  seem  to  have  been  not  very  far  behind 


Child    of    the    Sea im 

many  of  those  whom  we  feel  more  disposed  to  call  Christian. 
Some  tell  of  a  father's  prayers  to  God  ivith  the  family,  many 
speak  of  the  old  Bible  which  was  respected  and  read  and  pre- 
served until  some  upheaval  in  the  family  life  caused  its  disap- 
pearance. How  I  wish  we  might  have  begun  to  bring  the 
better  understanding  of  God's  word  to  the  Island  a  hundred, 
rather  than  only  nine  years  ago! 

Dona  G ,  who  was  once  my  landlady  in  the  first  days 

in  Adjuntas,  keeps  a  guest-house  in  this  very  street  now,  in 
one  of  the  massively  built  houses  of  old  times.  There  is  a 
mirador  above  the  second  story — a  large  room  standing  alone 
upon  the  spacious  brick-paved  roof,  which  I  am  going  to  rent 
for  a  while.  It  is  away  up  above  the  noisy,  dusty  street,  yet  no 
farther  away  from  my  people.  Living  alone  in  the  cottage 
with  a  servant  is  too  expensive  for  a  single  mission  purse,  and 
it  will  be  rather  a  welcome  change  to  be  having  meals  in  the 
dining-room  below  without  racking  my  brains  for  planning 
with  the  cook  three  solitary  meals  a  day.  When  the  Mis- 
sion Board  sends  another  to  take  Miss  S.'s  place  in  Ponce — 
well!  going  to  live  again  in  one  of  these  cottages  with  a  friend 
and  Vidal  will  seem  almost  like  going  home.  But  the  cool, 
quiet  mirador  seems  very  inviting  just  now.  Ever  since  I 
came  to  Ponce  I  have  wanted  to  live  in  a  mirador,  on  a  house- 
top! 

February  9,  1908. 

A  superb  day,  the  mercury  only  at  79°,  and  cool  and  pleas- 
ant for  the  long  walk  to  Machuelo.  I  had  to  see  the  dear 
sick  baby  Enrique,  little  brother  of  Sunday  School  scholars 
across  the  river.  He  has  bronchitic  complication  with  typhoid 
fever,  and  is  very  weak  today.  I  sat  a  long  while  with  the 
mother,  helping  where  I  could.  There  are  always  many  chil- 
dren in  our  Island  homes,  but  the  mother  never  seems  able  to 


[196] Child    of    the   Sea 

spare  the  little  sick  one,  no  matter  how  much  care  he  gives  her. 
All  was  quiet  and  clean  in  the  house,  the  other  children  being 
at  play  outside.  A  neighbor  told  me  of  overhearing  a  conver- 
sation between  Enrique's  brother,  Pedrito  eiged  five,  and  Ana 
the  chubby  knee-baby  of  two  and  half  years. 

Pedrito:  "  Doiia  Juanita  is  God's  lady  and  she  lives  in 
God's  house." 

Ana:  "  God's?    God's?  " 

Pedrito:  "Yes,  because  she  is  all  the  time  talking  about 
God." 

Sunday,  February  23,  1908. 

Enrique  died  this  morning,  after  a  month  of  constant  suf- 
fering, poor  baby!  After  the  Bible  class  in  Machuelo,  this 
afternoon,  I  stopped  in  to  see  the  mother.  She  was  quiet — 
relieved,  I  think,  dear  heart!  that  her  baby  was  no  longer 
moaning  on  the  bed. 


Child   of    the   Sea  [197] 


XX 

L,ord  of  the  winds  I    I  feel  thee  nigh, 
1  know  thy  breath  in  the  burning  skyl 
And  I  wait  with  a  thrill  in  every  vein 
For  the  coming  of  the  hurricane  I 
And  lo!  on  the  wing  of  the  heavy  gales. 
Through  the  boundless  arch  of  heaven  he  sails; 
Silent  and  slow  and  terribly  strong, 
The  mighty  shadow  is  borne  along. 

While  the  world  below,  dismayed  and  dim. 
Through  the  calm  of  the  thick,  hot  temperature. 
Looks  up  at  the  gloomy  folds  with  fear. 

— "  The  Hunicane,"  Longfellow. 


Ponce,  P.  R., 
April  25.  1908. 

THE  general  missionary,  Mr.  Rudd,  tells  of  a  long  mis- 
sionary trip  among  the  hills  during  which  three  small 
churches  have  been  organized:  one  at  Barranquitas,  at 
last,  of  seven  members;  another  in  Culebras,  near  the  planter's 
home,  of  nine;  and  a  third  in  the  country  near  Coamo,  at 
Pedro  Garcia,  of  eleven  men  and  women. 

A  few  days  ago  I  went  to  see  our  poor  girl  ,  who 

has  gone  openly  to  live  with  a  man,  "  without  benefit  of 
clergy."  How  will  it  be  possible  for  us  to  know  of  danger 
of  this  kind  before  it  is  too  late?  The  first  steps  are  not  openly 
taken,  and  how  can  our  eyes  and  ears  be  in  all  places  at  once, 
no  matter  how  omnipresent  our  hearts  may  be.  I  had  the  rather 
unusual  experience  of  encountering  the  man  in  the  case.  He 
does  not  often  appear,  but  this  one  said  to  me  very  quietly. 


1198] Child   of    the   Sea 

even  respectfully,  that  he  did  not  intend  to  marry  .     I 

tried  to  say  to  them  what  it  seemed  to  me  Christ  would  have 

said . 

May  30,  1908. 
Here  I  eim  on  the  roof  of  the  guest-house  named  El  Hogar, 
"  The  Home."  Peeping  over  the  high  parapet  I  can  see  the 
dear  cottage,  closed  and  solitary,  down  in  the  street.  My 
roof  cabin  is  large  and  more  than  cosy  with  books  and  desk, 
rug  and  couch,  all  my  own  furnishings,  freshly  whitewashed 
walls,  and  pictures  and  curtains  hung.  The  way  to  the  roof 
begins  at  the  front  entrance  by  white  marble  stairs,  and  ends 
at  the  top  of  the  house  in  broken  brick  steps  leading  to  the 
roof  door.  Once  outside,  I  have  almost  a  "  mountain  peak  " 
of  my  own,  and  can  look  down  into  neighbors'  high-walled 
gardens  and  then  away  up  to  real  mountains  in  the  north.  By 
climbing  a  sort  of  ladder  to  the  top  of  the  front  wall  of  the 
house,  which  runs  higher  than  the  rest  of  the  parapet,  one  may 
gain  a  view  of  the  shining  sea  two  miles  away. 

June  3,  1908. 

The  air  on  the  roof  is  sea  atr  by  day,  and  mountain  air  by 
night.  The  trade-winds  blow  steadily  from  nine  a.  m.  until 
sunset.  At  nine  p.  m.  the  refreshing  mountain  breeze  comes 
down  to  us,  after  three  hours  of  calm  following  sunset. 

Some  of  the  "  sisters  "  have  seen  more  from  this  roof,  of  the 
round  of  sky,  of  the  mountains  and  sea  and  the  city,  than  they 
had  ever  seen  before.  One  lady,  having  lived  all  her  life  on 
the  ground,  grew  so  giddy  at  the  appalling  height  of  the  third 
story  that  she  turned  quite  pale  and  sick! 

Downstairs,  Charlie,  the  colored  waiter  from  one  of  the  En- 
glish islands,  takes  good  care  of  me  at  my  little  corner  table 
in  the  hotel  dining-room.  He  sees  that  I  have  the  breast  of 
chicken,  and  two  helps  of  lettuce,  and  eggs  boiled  just  right. 


Child    of    the   Sea  [199] 


June  13.  1908. 

With  so  much  to  do  alone.  In  Ponce,  La  Playa,  and  Ma- 
chuelo,  it  is  impossible  now  to  leave  for  the  long  visits  to  out- 
stations,  but  it  is  going  to  be  possible  to  go  to  Yauco  for  a  day 
and  night  each  week,  for  visiting  and  for  a  Bible  class  of 
women.  It  will  mean  the  early  train  on  Friday  mornings 
from  Ponce  and  the  first  train  back  again  on  Saturdays,  with 
the  night  between  at  the  little  Hotel  Pla  in  Yauco. 

July  7,  1908. 

Hours  afoot  out  of  doors  in  the  sun  and  wind  and  rain  send 
me  up  to  my  bed  at  night  as  tired  as  a  day-laborer — more  tired 
sometimes,  perhaps,  as  there  is  night  labor  as  well,  but  the 
soundest  sleep  of  years  comes  to  me  on  my  cool  roof! 

Last  week,  I  stayed  in  Yauco  long  enough  to  run  over  to 
Guanica  once  more.  Just  ten  years  ago,  this  month.  General 
Miles  brought  a  few  of  his  battle-ships  into  the  Bay,  the  rest  of 
the  fleet  remaining  outside.  A  lady  tells  me  that  a  dozen 
Spanish  guerrillas  tried  to  keep  Miles  from  landing!  Mission 
work  there  is  slow,  in  spite  of  its  having  first  received  "  the 
invaders."  Well,  I  am  glad  we  came,  but  I  cannot  help  won- 
dering how  much  of  the  mission  work  that  is  being  done  in 
the  Island  would  endure  and  succeed  if  it  were  not  for  some 
idealization  of  it,  some  bright  imagination  on  the  part  of  the 
workers,  some  "  vision  "  of  a  happier  Island  ahead. 

The  native  pastors  preach  and  preach  in  all  the  little 
churches,  and  ever3rwhere  there  is  growth,  slower  perhaps  nu- 
merically than  during  the  first  years.  All  the  denominations  at 
work  in  the  Island  have  churches  and  chapels  and  some  have 
schools.  The  American  missionaries  are  constantly  journeying, 
preaching,  teaching,  training,  building. 
O 


[200] Child    of    the    Sea 

Augusts.  1908. 
brought  me  just  now  a  splendid  bunch  of  pink  roses. 


a  Greek  bearing  a  gift,  for  he  desired  the  loan  of  one  dollar, 
and  got  it!     Smotheringly  hot  these  days. 

Septembers.  1908. 

Poor  F is  going  to  die,  and  in  all  my  experience  with 

suffering  and  death  here,  I  have  never  seen  such  a  look  of 
helpless  pain  on  any  face  as  hers  wears.  Today,  she  kept 
passing  her  burning  hand  over  my  bare  cool  arm  and  said  it  felt 
*'  so  nice."  She  had  not  slept  for  days.  I  turned  everybody 
out  and  stroked  her  head  and  hands,  praying  for  a  few  moments 
of  rest  for  her.  and  she  fell  asleep — not  for  long,  but  waked 
so  pleased  to  have  had  the  prayer  answered. 

September  4.  1908. 
F died  at  noon  today.     I  found  the  quiet  figure  lying 


on  a  clean  cot.  The  breeze  poured  in  from  the  sea,  and  a 
**  sister  "  sat  cozily  beside  the  cot,  a  tiny  hand  sewing-machine 
on  her  lap,  making  the  shroud.  Others  sat  by  in  cheerful  chat, 
and  neighbors'  children  ran  in  and  out.  The  new-bom  baby 
wailed  in  a  hammock  in  a  comer,  till  a  yoxmg,  motherly  wo- 
man caught  it  up  and  put  it  to  her  breast.  It  was  good  to  see 
the  motherless  mite  take  comfort.  The  two  other  little  girls 
are  scarcely  more  than  babies,  but  their  papa  comforts  them 
and  he  says  he  means  to  keep  all  three,  himself. 

September  7,  1908. 

Miss  Mary  O.  Lake,  of  Texas,  has  been  appointed  by  the 
women's  Mission  Board  to  the  Ponce  work  and  will  come  in 
a  month  or  so.     This  is  the  best  of  news,  and  I  must  begin  to 


Child   of    the   Sea  [201] 


look  for  a  cottage  for  us,  at  once.    This  is  the  day  for  G 's 

English  lesson.  He  is  the  only  one  left  in  Ponce  of  the  four 
young  preachers  who  studied  English  with  me  early  in  the 
year. 


September  12.  1908. 

When  I  came  from  the  Yauco  train  this  morning,  I  found 
a  message  saying  that  dear  Cruz  Torres  had  died  this  morn- 
ing early.  The  news  went  to  my  heart  with  a  pang,  for 
she  was  one  of  those  "  pure  in  heart  "  whose  listening  face  and 
loving  spirit  are  an  inspiration  to  every  missionary.  For  six 
years,  Cruz  had  had  an  aneurism  formed  in  her  chest,  and  she 
knew  that  death  might  come  at  any  instant  from  the  bursting 
of  the  arterial  sac  or  tumor.  When  the  aneurism  first  developed 
six  years  ago,  and  I  took  a  good  American  doctor  to  see  her, 
he  saw  at  once  the  reason  of  her  acute  pain,  and  that  there  was 
nothing  to  do  for  her,  and  nothing  to  tell  her  but  the  truth. 
And  I  had  to  tell  it.  I  cannot  forget  the  peace  and  cheer  of 
her  face  as  she  heard  her  fate.  The  pain  subsided,  but  for 
all  these  years  she  has  known  that  any  overexertion,  a  fit  of 
anger — anger  could  hardly  be  thought  of  in  connection  with 
our  converted  Cruz — or  sudden  emotion  might  break  the  blood- 
tumor  in  her  breast  and  cause  instantaneous  death,  and  we 
have  all  known  it.  I  have  seen  her  fine,  eager  face  as  she 
has  sat  in  almost  the  same  seat  in  church  all  these  six  years 
since,  and  long  before — and  I  am  sure  I  shall  look  for  it  there 
still.  It  was  Cruz  who  asked  for  the  visit  to  her  cousin,  living 
beyond  Portugues,  which  resulted  in  the  mission  at  Portugues, 
but  not  in  the  conversion  of  the  cousin. 

I  have  often  stopped  by  at  her  little  house  in  the  Alley  of 
the  Flowers,  Callejon  de  las  Flares,  for  a  chat  and  refresh- 
ment of  my  own  spirit,  for  Cruz  was  one  of  the  Lord's  happy 
children.      Last  Monday  she  prayed  sweetly  with  us  in  the 


[202] Child    of    the    Sea 

women's  study;  on  Tuesday  night  she  was  at  the  business- 
meeting  of  the  church;  on  Wednesday,  at  prayer-meeting;  on 
Friday,  last  night,  it  rained  and  she  could  not  go  to  the  cot- 
tage-meeting in  the  Cantera,  but  Don  Ramon  called  by  and 
found  her  sunny  and  well.  This  morning,  Saturday,  she  arose 
early  as  usual  and,  before  dressing  herself,  prayed.  Then, 
as  she  bent  to  draw  on  her  shoes  and  stockings,  she  quietly  fell 
over  to  one  side  as  she  sat,  and  was  gone! 

The  poor  old  husband  is  disconsolate.  None  of  us  can  for- 
get how  she  used  to  pray  for  his  conversion  in  our  women's 
meetings. 

This  afternoon,  I  sat  In  the  quiet  room  where  she  lay  and 
read  to  the  neighbor  women  who  had  gathered  about  the  coffin 
in  respectful  silence — so  different  from  many  a  scene  I  have 
witnessed  about  the  dead.  Then,  I  had  to  hurry  away  three 
miles  to  La  Playa,  to  the  little  girls  waiting  there  for  their 
sewing  and  lesson.  They  were  impressed  in  their  innocent 
hearts,  as  all  have  been,  with  the  fact  that  "  sister  Cruz  "  had 
prated  first,  before  she  began  to  dress,  and  then  went  home! 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
September  26,  1908. 

At  the  seventh  annual  meeting  of  the  churches  held  in  Rio 
Piedras,  this  month,  the  lad^-rvorkers  Were  given  a  vote  in  the 
proceedings,  for  the  first  time.  .  . 

Today,  we  are  "  on  the  edge  of  a  hurricane  *'  in  the  West 
Indian  waters.  Warning  was  published  yesterday,  and  to- 
day we  have  sudden  storm-bursts  of  wind  — rdfagas — cloud- 
bursts of  rain — aguaceros — from  the  black,  driven  clouds 
overhead.  The  rain  is  so  beaten  by  the  wind,  that  just  now  it 
is  whipped  from  the  brick  paving  of  my  roof  beyond  the  open 
door,  like  snow  in  a  blizzard.     The  mountains  look  to  be 


Child    of    the    Sea [203]^ 

simply  drowning  in  the  rain,  and  the  clouds  stream  over  the 
tiled  roof  of  my  lovely  cabin  in  long  waving  rags! 

Sunday,  September  2  7,  1 908. 

A  black,  portentous  night  just  past,  with  the  sea's  thundering 
two  miles  away  at  La  Playa  in  my  ears  all  night.  La  Playa 
is  inundated  and  I  must  go  down  there  at  once  after  Bible 
School.  The  storm  is  not  only  at  sea,  but  in  the  hills  also,  and 
during  the  early  evening  I  heard  long,  loud,  weird  cries,  now 
and  then,  from  the  direction  of  the  river,  which  is  of  course  in 
flood.  It  is  the  "  backwater,"  driven  in  at  its  mouth  by  the 
surging  surf  of  the  sea,  that  causes  the  inundations  at  La  Playa. 
But  the  hurricane  did  not  arrive. 

Later.  I  found  the  sea  raging,  and  of  a  queer,  creamy  color, 
with  foaming  crests.  One  steamer  was  in  port,  all  other  craft 
gone  in  search  of  safer  waters.  The  huts  on  posts  along  the 
shore  were  empty,  as  the  surf  was  running  in  under  and  beyond 
them,  but  only  one  had  been  washed  away,  others  leaned 
giddily  against  the  poles  placed  to  secure  them.  Why  will 
people  continue  to  build  their  shacks  and  live  in  such  surround- 
ings after  constant  warnings  from  the  sea  and  river  themselves? 
The  eternal  "  Why?  "!  One  family  of  "  Ours,"  had  had  to 
leave  their  home,  the  streets  were  little  rivers,  and  I  could  not 
get  near  the  houses  of  any  of  our  people,  but  a  "  brother  '* 
called  out  to  me  across  the  mud  and  water  that  all  was  well. 

And  so  another  hurricane  has  passed  us  by! 

In  the  Little  Brown  House, 
October  12,  1 90S. 

As  Miss  Lake  is  coming  very  soon,  I  have  taken  a  small, 
frame  cottage  on  Cristina  Street,  after  four  months  on  the  roof. 
The  house  is  old  and  shabby  but  is  being  freshly  papered,  and 


[204] Child    of    the    Sea 

with  a  little  inside  painting  and  S 's  scrubbing,  it  will  do. 

The  sun  shines  in  on  both  sides,  and  there  is  a  yard  with  a 
cocoanut  palm  and  space  for  flowers.  That  space  is  a  weedy, 
tin-canny  desert  at  present.  I  have  moved  in,  vAth  Matilde 
again,  and  a  tall  black  woman  is  established  in  the  miniature 
kitchen,  temporarily.  Also,  there  is  a  small  white  kitten,  from 
Yauco. 

Tonight's  Bible  lesson  for  the  "  sisters  "  is  on  "  The  Motm- 
tains  " — a  good  subject  for  our  sea-level  Christians  who  often 
pine  for  the  alturas,  the  heights.  Mission  work  was  never  more 
alluring  and  in  a  way  satisfying. 

October  19,  1908. 

A  rainy  day,  and  peddling  men  and  boys  go  by  with  gunny 
sacks  pulled  over  head  and  shoulders,  looking  rather  miserable. 
Our  street  is  of  dirt,  and  there  is  even  no  sidewalk  where  it 
passes  our  house,  so  we  are  shut  in  by  a  lake  of  water  in  front, 
today. 

There  are  said  to  be  five  thousand  school  children  in  Ponce, 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  at  least  one  thousand  flock  by  us  on 
Cristina  Street  four  times  a  day  to  and  from  the  big  school 
campus  just  beyond  the  cottage.  All  branches  of  study  are 
in  English,  as  Spanish  is  not  allowed  except  in  the  regular  hour 
in  each  school  for  the  study  of  Spanish,  and  in  some  of  the 
lowest  grades.  Even  the  kindergarten  babes  sing  English 
songs,  whatever  they  may  prattle  emiong  themselves.  Already, 
many  teachers  and  principals  of  schools  are  Porto  Ricans. 

Today,  the  children  go  slopping  by,  under  their  little  para- 
sols, or  without,  most  of  the  girls  wearing  white  frocks,  and 
slippers  for  shoes!  Little  boys  wear  white  too,  and  not  one 
goes  barefoot  if  shoes  of  any  kind  can  be  had.  The  American 
teachers  tell  me  that  it  is  a  delight  to  teach  these  bright-eyed 
youngsters.     Do  I  not  know  it? 


Child    of    the    Sea [205] 

One  of  the  new  American  teachers,  a  fine  Christian  girl  from 
Boulder,  Colorado,  is  going  to  take  a  class  in  our  mission 
Sunday  School — of  the  largest  girls  who  know  English.  Why 
do  not  all  of  the  young  people  from  wide-awake  churches  "  at 
home,"  take  an  interest  in  the  missions  in  the  Island?  Here 
and  there  some  one  does,  and  it  works  well.  Sometimes  a  mis- 
sionary has  difficult  questions  to  answer  from  the  natives  who 
wonder  over  the  manner  of  "  Sunday-keeping  "  of  some  Ameri- 
cans who  come  to  the  Island. 

San  Juan,  P.  R., 
November  12,  1908. 

Miss  Lake  arrived  today,  and  I  was  on  the  pier  here,  as  tho 
old  S.  S.  Caracas  warped  in,  and  the  gangway  was  raised  to 
the  deck.  There  was  a  meeting  here  this  week  of  the  "  Con- 
greso  Evangelico  "  of  mission  churches  and  workers  in  the 
Island,  so  I  came  to  attend  the  meeting,  hoping  very  much  that 
the  new  missionary  would  have  taken  this  week's  ship  for  the 
Island,  that  I  might  kill  two  birds  wnth  one  stone!  Miss  Lake 
came  straight  away  with  me  from  the  ship  to  the  hotel,  and  as 
we  could  not  arrange  to  go  on  to  Ponce  today,  it  has  been 
possible  to  do  a  little  sightseeing  this  afternoon.  Mr.  R.  was 
attending  the  "  Congress "  and  agreed  to  take  us  to  El 
Morro,  which  I  have  never  seen  on  the  inside,  in  all  the 
years  here. 

We  spent  an  hour — having  two  new  American  school- 
teachers also  with  us — in  going  over  the  interesting  old  fortress. 
Uncle  Sam  has  recently  spent  a  fortune  on  an  ugly  new  light- 
house tower  which  has  taken  the  place  of  the  old,  picturesque 
Spanish  tower  which  seemed  to  grow  out  of  the  hoary  walls 
of  the  fort.  The  new  one  is  of  slate-colored  brick,  almost 
black,  rising  in  obstreperous  fashion  above  the  richly  yellowed 
walls  hung  with  vines  and  maiden-hair  ferns.      If  less  pic- 


[206]       Child    of    the    Sea 

turesque  it  may  be,  however,  a  much  more  efficient  light  theoi 
the  old  one. 

A  young  Porto  Rican  orderly  showed  us  around,  and  we 
came  in  one  place  upon  the  huge  hole  plowed  through  a  mighty 
wall  by  one  of  our  own  shells  on  May  12,  1898,  from  Rear- 
admiral  Sampson's  fleet.^ 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
November    16,    1908. 

And  now  the  other  blue  bedroom  in  our  cottage  is  occu- 
pied, and  Miss  Lake  is  already  making  it  "  seem  like  home  " 
with  her  fresh  white  curtains  and  pictures.  She  has  had  ex- 
perience of  men  and  women  in  general,  and  of  mission  work 
in  particular,  in  New  Mexico,  so  is  prepared  to  be  of  use  at 
once,  while  she  goes  on  diligently  studying  Spanish  with  a 
teacher.  I  think  we  are  going  to  love  the  *'  little  brown 
house! 

An  episode  on  the  train  as  I  traveled  to  San  Juan  last  week 
interested  me.  A  tall,  sweet-faced  American  woman,  dressed 
in  a  sort  of  deaconess  costume,  appeared  on  the  Ponce  streets 
not  long  ago,  and  we  soon  learned  that  she  was  a  teacher  for 
one  of  the  nuns'  schools,  straight  from  "  the  States."  She  was 
on  the  train  with  us  last  week,  and  she  and  I  chatted  together 
until  she  left  the  train  at  Mayagiiez.  She  told  me  that  she  was 
not  a  "  sister,"  having  taken  no  "  vows,"  but  that  she  was  a 
religious  teacher  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  She  seemed 
to  have  no  objection  to  offer  to  my  frank  account  of  our  own 
reason  for  being  in  the  Island,  and  spoke  of  those  Porto 
Ricans  whom  she  had  touched  as  in  a  state  of  "  heathenism." 
How  easily  I  understood  her  meaning — that  Roman  Catholi- 

^ "  He  bombarded  the  fortifications  at  San  Juan  in  order  to  test  their 
strength."- — Joseph  B,  SeaburVi,   1903, 


Child    of    the    Sea [207]^ 

cism  was  at  such  a  low-water  mark  here  that,  in  comparison 
with  "good  CathoHcs,"  the  people  are  "heathen!  "  She 
has  not  yet  learned  how  the  poor  have  been  absolutely  neglected 
by  the  priests  unless  "  faithful  "  at  confession  and  mass,  with 
baptism  and  marriage  by  "  The  Church."  Many  send  their 
children  to  this  large  parochial  school  in  Ponce  rather  than  to 
the  public  schools,  and  a  nominal  charge  of  five  cents  a  week 
Is  made,  of  even  the  poorest. 


[2081  Child    of    the   Sea 


XXI 

But,  lo  Truth's  house  there  is  a  single  door. 

Which  is  Experience.     He  teaches  best 

Who  feels  the  heart  of  all  men  in  his  breast. 

And  knows  their  strength  or  weakness  through  his  own. 

— Bayard  Taylor. 


Ponce,  R  R.. 

January  3.   1909. 

WE  have  most  of  the  strategic  points  as  mission  centers, 
along  the  broad  diagonal  of  the  Island  extending  from 
northeast  southward.  Presbyterians  have  most  of 
their  strength  in  the  west,  Congregationalists,  in  the  east;  the 
Christian  Alliance  and  Lutherans  are  in  the  north,  the  Chris- 
tians and  United  Brethren,  in  the  south;  and  the  Methodists,  all 
about.  By  a  principle  of  comity,  the  different  denominations 
have  agreed  that  but  one  shall  work  in  towns  numbering  under 
five  thousand,  and  that  one  to  be  the  first  to  have  "  driven 
stakes."  In  the  large  cities  several  denominations  work  in  their 
various  missions,  harmoniously. 

January  12,  1909. 

The  oyster-man  is  now  on  the  porch-steps  opening  the  dozen 
tiny  oysters  (for  ten  cents)  which  are  to  make  my  soup  today. 
He  comes  through  the  streets,  on  certain  days,  with  a  few  little 
oysters  in  the  bottom  of  a  sack  slung  over  his  shoulders,  cry- 
ing "  Ostiones!  "  It  is  wonderful  how  toothsome  they  are. 
He  tells  me  that  he  picks  them  off  little  trees  growing  along 
the  shore  near  Guayanilla.     Miss  L.  is  in  Yauco  today. 


Child    of    the    Sea [209]^ 

There  are  sick  and  sorrowing  people  to  be  visited  this  p.  m. 
A  girl  lost  her  father  by  sudden  death  last  week;  there  is 
another  dying  "  sister  "  in  La  Playa. 

Up  till  late  last  night  making  my  annual  treasurer's  report  of 
the  church  finances,  and  stupidly  chasing  sixty-one  cents  out 
of  the  balance  a  favor,  and  did  it! 

Rio  Piedras,  P.  R., 
January  28.   1909. 

Our  Corresponding  Secretary,  Mrs.  A.  E.  Reynolds,  has 
come  from  Boston  to  visit  the  missions  of  our  Boards,  and  I 
came  to  meet  her  at  the  pier  in  San  Juan.  How  rejoiced  I  was 
to  see  her  shining  face  looking  down  from  the  high  deck  of  the 
S.  S.  Carolina  as  I  waited  on  the  pier !  ^ 

We  are  in  the  hospitable  home  of  our  devoted  missionary, 
Mr.  Cober,  for  two  or  three  days  that  Mrs.  R.  may  see  the 
missions  hereabouts. 

Adjuntas,  p.  R., 
February,  1,  1909. 

On  one  night  of  our  stay  with  Mrs.  Cober  in  Rio  Piedras, 
she  entertained  a  large  number  of  the  fine  young  normal  school 
students,  at  her  house.  Most  of  them  are  members  of  Mrs. 
C.'s  Bible  class,  in  English,  at  the  mission  church.  But  they 
are  not  all  Protestants,  by  any  means.  We  sang  hymns  in 
both  languages,  and  Mrs.  R.  spoke  charmingly  to  the  young 
men  and  women,  of  Indian  mission  work  in  the  United  States. 

Today,  we  took  the  train,  and  then  a  carriage  at  Arecibo 
for  this  dear  mountain  town  which  I  was  most  anxious  for 
Mrs.  R.  to  see.  The  old  house  where  "  Dona  Clara  "  lived 
and  where  the  blue  roses  clambered  up  and  down  the  livid 

*The  "Carolina"  was  torpedoed  by  the  Germans  in  1918  and  sunk, 
on  its  out  voyage  to  Porto  Rico. 


[210] Child    of    the    Sea 

walls  in  my  room,  is  occupied  now  by  the  red-faced  priest, 
who  keeps  a  "  hotel  "  there.  We  must  take  our  meals  there 
for  the  day  or  two  we  are  to  stay,  but  sleep  quite  alone  in 
the  **  Annex,"  no  other  than  the  big  house  behind,  where  Cap- 
tain Andrus  lived  and  where  later  I  spent  many  happy  weeks 
alone  with  Luisa  the  cook.  Mrs.  R.  is  seeing  the  Sleeping 
Giant,  and  the  great  mountain  slopes,  and  the  little  river  and 
the  flowery  plaza,  of  which  she  has  heard  so  much.  Best  of 
all,  as  we  could  not  have  a  Sunday  here,  she  talked  sweetly, 
tonight,  to  the  women,  in  a  specially  arranged  service  for  her 
and  them  in  the  new  church. 

The  disreputable  old  priest  himself  waits  on  us  at  table, 
in  blowsy  shirt-sleeves  and  trousers,  looking  anything  but 
priestly,  and  only  men  seem  to  congregate  for  meals  in  the  un- 
cleanly old  house.  How  many  memories,  for  me,  gather 
about  the  place — of  the  kind  old  lady  of  the  house;  of  httle 
dying  Anita;  of  Manuel,  the  sick  mountain  lad,  now  a  strap- 
ping young  clerk  in  Ponce;  of  anxious  thoughts  for  the  little 
beginning-church  of  five  members;  of  heartaches  over  the 
hordes  of  famishing  people;  of  long  readings  and  talks  with 
Dofia  Clara's  family,  now  utterly  dispersed! 

Few  of  those  touched  by  those  first  months  of  work  here,  in 
the  superficial  way  that  many  first-comers  are  touched  by  mis- 
sion teaching,  are  with  us  now.  Yet  some  of  the  best  material 
in  the  church  today  is  from  those  days  of  first  awakening. 
Where  are  all  my  children  who  came  swarming  to  the  old 
warehouse? 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
February   18,   1909. 

One  wishes  that  a  visit  from  Board  representatives  might  be 
longer  than  such  visits  always  are.  There  is  much  they  might 
learn  of  the  "  true  inwardness  of  things  "  which  is  not  to  be 


Child    of    the    Sea [2U]^ 

fully  understood  by  attending  specially  arranged  meetings  and 
receptions  for  welcoming  or  speeding.  Still,  in  the  case  of 
Mrs.  R.,  we  were  delighted  to  have  her  for  almost  three 
weeks  of  constant  companionship  as  guest  in  the  little  brown 
house,  when  she  was  not  being  taken  off  to  "  missions."  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Rudd  did  their  part  toward  making  her  see  just  what 
mission  work  has  meant  in  this  part  of  our  Island,  and  we  went 
to  Yauco  and  Coamo,  and  picked  up  shells  on  the  shore  of 
Guanica  Bay,  and  attended  the  marriage  of  the  yoimg  pastor 
there.  Best  of  all  for  us  were  the  quiet  talks  Miss  Lake  and 
I  enjoyed  with  her  in  our  home.  Mrs.  Reynolds  under- 
stands the  joys  and  the  complications  of  mission  work  as  I 
believe  few  do.  She  fitted  into  our  broken-up  days  as  one 
well  accustomed  to  interruptions  and  to  constant  coming  and 
going. 

At  last,  she  went  off  by  the  Military  Road  across  the  Island, 
to  see  the  central  districts,  on  her  way  back  to  San  Juan  and 
her  ship  for  New  York. 

April  6.  1909. 
At  vesper-tide, 

**  Since  none  I  wronged  in  deed  or  word  today, 
From  whom  should  I  crave  pardon.  Master,  say?  " 

A  voice  replied: 
"From  the  sad  child  whose  joy  thou  has  not  planned; 
The  goaded  beast  whose  friend  thou  didst  not  stand; 
The  rose  that  died  for  water  from  thy  hand." 

Aprils,  1909. 

Well,  the  "  sad  child  "  is  asleep  in  her  cot,  in  my  study, 
bathed  (I  hope  not  too  strenuously),  tea-ed  hot  for  her  cough 
and  fever. 


[212] Child    of    the    Sea 

The  "  goaded  beast  "  I  have  not  perhaps  encountered  today, 
but  I  am  afraid  an  unwatered  "  rose  "  is  dying  in  a  vase  on 
my  sitting-room  table  at  this  moment  tonight,  and  by  my  hand. 
I  am  sorry.  There  has  been  no  moment  for  thinking  of  fresh 
water  for  a  rose! 

B ,  the  sad  child's  mother,  is  very  ill,  v^ill  never  be  any 

better,  and  was  taken  to  a  hospital  today.  A  neighbor  taking 
the  three  boys,  I  brought  the  little  girl  home  with  me.  She  is 
painfully  thin,  only  six  years  old,  and  as  wise  as  an  owl. 

Matilde  is  hemming  a  little  blue  frock  of  gingham  for  her 
tonight. 

April  10,  1909. 

Ten-year-old  I cannot  live.     I  found  her  with  flies 

swarming  over  her  bed,  and  had  to  come  home  and  send  her 
a  spare  mosquito-bar  to  protect  her  from  the  pests  she  was  too 
feeble  to  drive  away.     No  one  else  seemed  to  mind  them. 

April  15.  1909. 

The  "  sad  child  "  has  been  a  very  sad  one  indeed.  After 
sundry  wailing-fits  and  runnings-away  to  the  kind,  but  over- 
crowded family  which  cares  for  the  brothers,  she  is  settling 
down  today  to  sew  for  her  rag-doll. 

Little  I died  on  Tuesday,  while  I  was  in  Yauco,  and 

was  buried  yesterday.  I  spent  an  hour  at  the  house  before 
the  burial.  As  the  parents  have  been  members  of  our  church 
for  some  time,  I  was  troubled  at  the  laying-out  of  the  pathetic, 
little  dusky  corpse.  She  was  dressed  in  the  white  and  blue 
paraphernalia  of  the  Virgin  de  la  purisima,  even  to  the  half- 
moon  of  silvered  cardboard  bound  to  her  feet.  A  candle 
burned  at  her  head,  flickering  its  light  over  the  white  veil  and 
orange-blossoms  and  blue  ribbons  of  the  little  dead  girl.  I 
had  carried  some  flowers  from  the  little  garden  of  the  church. 


Child    of    the    Sea [213^ 

and  we  laid  them  in  the  coffin.  A  few  "  sisters  "  were  present, 
but  there  was  none  of  the  quiet  dignity  usually  present  in  our 
Christians'  homes  nor  the  comforting  where  there  is  hope  in  the 
bereaved  hearts.  Some  wrong  is  cooling  the  early  devotion  of 
years  ago,  for  such  a  display  means  more  than  a  mere  show  of 
spangles  and  blue  ribbons,  tinsel,  and  lights.  Don  Ramon, 
the  pastor,  was  able  to  read  a  few  words  from  the  New  Testa- 
ment and  prayed.  For  the  rest,  the  occasion  was  only  a 
fiesta,  the  house  filled  with  curious  comers  and  goers  from  the 
street,  mostly  little  wide-eyed,  whispering  children.  Finally, 
at  six  o'clock  they  were  off  to  the  cemetery.  The  casket  was 
covered  with  white  cloth  bound  with  blue  tape,  and  was  car- 
ried by  men.  Six  of  I 's  little  girl  friends  walked  along- 
side, dressed  in  white  with  veils,  and  wearing  artificial  orange- 
blossoms  in  their  hair — all  this,  I  was  told,  was  to  indicate  the 
virginity  of  all  the  little  creatures! 

•  ••••••••• 

From  a  book  on  hand,  just  now: 

Something  higher  and  greater  than  either  heart,  intellect,  or  soul,  whis- 
pered to  her  inmost  self,  "Work!  God  bids  you  do  what  is  in  you  as 
completely  as  you  can,  without  asking  for  a  reward  of  Love  or  Fame. " 

"  Ah,  but  the  world  will  never  own  women's  work  to  be  great,  even 
if  it  be  so,  because  men  give  the  verdict  and  man's  praise  is  for  himself, 
and  his  own  achievements,  always." 

"Man's  praise!  "  went  on  the  inward  voice,  "and  what  of  God's 
final  justice?  Have  you  not  patience  to  wait  for  that,  and  faith  to 
work  for  it?  " 

Two  more  chapel  dedications  are  announced  for  this  month. 
The  first  is  for  the  mountain  district  of  Sierra  Alta,  on  the 
heights  above  Yauco.  The  wee,  white  building  can  be  seen 
from  even  Guanica-by-the-sea  as  a  tiny  spot  against  the  moun- 


[214] Child    of    the    Sea 

tainside  and,  from  Yauco  nearer  by,  it  looks  like  a  dove-cote 
perched  amid  the  green  of  the  high  mountain  slope.  The  other 
chapel  is  for  Guanica  itself. 

In  some  way  I  must  have  closer  touch  w^ith  these  fine  school- 
girls of  Ponce,  in  their  teens  as  yet  and  members  of  the  Sun- 
day School,  and  with  others  who  work  in  factories  and  tailor- 
shops,  a  more  personal  touch  than  casual  visits  or  the  hours  of 
even  the  women's  services  can  give.  So,  I  am  planning  to  get 
them  together  at  our  cottage  at  least  once  a  month. 

April!  6.  1909. 

Little  L is  sewing  diligently  on  a  small  petticoat  for 

herself,  made  of  soft  material  easy  for  the  clever  baby  fingers 
to  sew.  For  two  days  she  has  been  a  good  child,  and  not  too 
"  sad."  She  helps  pick  up  the  gudsimas  from  the  ground,  so 
troublesome  a  little  fruit  falling  from  a  neighbor's  tree  from 
over  the  wall.  We  have  no  pig  to  eat  them!  She  waters  the 
plants  with  her  small  can,  and  even  sweeps  and  dusts  a  little. 
Her  appetite  is  healthy  now,  and  she  meets  me  at  the  door 
sometimes  with  a  smile,  if  a  rather  wan  one.  She  does  not 
really  like  it  here,  and  wants  to  be  with  people  of  her  own 
kind,  and  as  I  must  leave  her  alone  all  day  with  the  servant, 
I  think  it  will  be  best  to  let  her  go,  finally. 

Monday,  May  31,  1909. 

I  find  that  I  have  failed  to  note  in  my  journals  how  the 
women's  missionary  society  began.  We  have  the  monthly 
meeting  tonight,  several  months  now  since  its  beginning.  Hesi- 
tating about  suggesting  another  form  of  "  offering  "  besides 
that  of  the  regular  ones  for  expenses  and  for  the  sick  poor  of 
the  church,  I  had  delayed  forming  a  society  of  the  women  for 
specific  giving  to  missions,  as  always  we  have  set  apart  a  portion 


Child    of    the    Sea [215] 

of  the  regular  church  funds  for  this,  and  our  people  are  being 
instructed  in  the  need  of  the  world  for  the  gospel.     . 

One  day  last  fall  R ,  who  washes  for  me,  sat  on  the 

roof  chatting  as  I  put  up  the  laundry  for  her,  and,  at  last, 
quietly  said  something  like  this:  *'  Dofia  Juanita,  I  want  you 
to  keep  twenty-five  cents  from  my  wash-money  every  month, 
for  missions,  for  those  people  who  have  not  had  the  Bible 
brought  to  them  as  we  have." 

I  cautiously  reminded  her  of  her  three  fatherless  children  and 
of  the  old  house  in  disrepair  for  which  she  had  been  collecting 
boards  for  mending,  and  asked  her  if  she  could  afford  to  spare 
quite  so  much  at  once.  Her  face  beamed  as  she  assured  me 
that  she  had  thought  about  the  matter  for  some  time,  and  that 
twenty-five  cents  was  what  she  wished  to  give  every  month. 
She  said  nothing  about  any  one  else  giving,  and  I  saw  that  she 
meant  it  to  be  an  offering  apart  from  the  weekly  collection  of 
the  church — and  her  envelope  for  this  never  fails ! 

Therefore,  on  the  next  night  of  the  women's  Bible  study,  I 
brought  the  matter  before  the  women,  and  after  telling  of  the 
desire  of  one  (unnamed  of  course)  expressed  to  me  spon- 
taneously, to  give  a  quarter  each  month  to  mission  work  apart 
from  our  own,  I  invited  any  others  who  might  feel  inclined,  to 
think  over  the  matter  and  say  if  they  wished  to  give  twenty- 
five,  ten,  five  cents,  or  one,  regularly  each  month  for  helping  to 
send  the  gospel  to  others.  But  the];  did  not  stop  '*  to  think!  " 
And  I  was  kept  busy  at  once  taking  down  the  names,  and  the 
amount  each  one  thought  she  could  give.  In  some  cases,  the 
amounts  were,  as  I  knew,  more  than  the  dear  women  in  their 
zeal  could  keep  up,  and  this  was  quietly  talked  over  and 
adjusted  later.  All  was  earnest  enthusiasm,  and  nearly  every 
one  gave  her  name.  Since  then,  there  has  been,  of  course,  a 
peculiar  interest  in  the  monthly  missionary  studies,  such  as  we 
have  tonight. 
P 


[216] Child   of   the   Sea 

Some  of  the  proposed  contributions  have  lapsed,  others  have 
diminished,  but  a  sum  is  accumulating  in  the  bank  to  be  added 
to  the  church  funds  in  reports,  and  dedicated  to  foreign  mis- 
sions. I  suppose  every  church  has  its  women's  missionary  so- 
ciety, sooner  or  later,  but  not  many  originate  in  the  sponta- 
neous giving  of  the  widow's  mite. 

June  4.  1909. 

Mrs.  K.  W.  Westfall,  the  newly  elected  Corresponding  Sec- 
retary of  our  Woman's  Home  Board  of  Missions  in  Chicago, 
writes  agreeing  to  my  proposed  vacation — the  fifth — in  the 
States  for  the  late  summer.  We  have  had  the  loveliest  of  days 
lately,  with  frequent  showers,  the  air  transparent  and  odorous 
with  flowering  vines  and  trees,  in  the  old,  walled  gardens. 

Sunday,  June  20.  1909. 

Dear  Mrs.  Harwood,  of  Newton,  Mass.,  who  gave  us  the 
chapel  for  Corral  Viejo,  years  ago,  is  sending  forty  kinder- 
garten chairs  for  the  littlest  children.  One  of  the  little  girls 
whispered  to  me  this  morning  that  she  had  dreamed  of  those 
silUtas,  and  all  of  the  children  are  begging  to  know  when  their 
ship  will  come  in  from  New  York  with  them. 

July  10,  1909. 

One  of  the  last  things  to  be  done  Is  finishing  the  manuscript 
of  the  little  catechism,  translated  and  adapted  from  Dr.  An- 
drew Broaddus'  simple  work.  It  is  ready  for  the  printer  at 
last. 

Sunday.  July  18,  1909. 

Three  baptisms  tonight. 

This  afternoon  I  walked  across  the  river  dry-shod,  by  step- 
ping-stones, to  Machueio  Sunday  School,   and  on  returning. 


Interior  of  Corral  Viejo  Chapel  on  Day  of  Dedication 


Coamo  Springs  Hotel 


Child    of    the    Sea [2m 

an  hour  later,  found  the  stream  a  rushing,  muddy  flood.  Had 
to  cross  by  the  rotting  sills  of  the  old  bridge,  which  is  closed  to 
traffic. 

Friday,  July  30,  1909. 

The  25th,  the  tenth  anniversary  holiday  in  honor  of  the 
American  "  Invasion  "  of  the  Island,  was  celebrated  with  a 
vim  last  Sunday,  beginning  with  the  early  morning  discharge 
of  thirteen  (original  colonies)  cannon-crackers,  and  the  play- 
ing of  our  national  airs  by  a  band.  Later,  there  were  forty- 
seven  (States)  canonazos,  cannon-shots,  and  so  went  the  day, 
on  to  the  afternoon's  horse-racing,  and  the  "  winding-up  "  ball 
at  the  Casino  in  the  evening.  Not  a  pretty  Sunday,  but  "  the 
masses  "  and  many  Americans  here  are  said  to  have  enjoyed  it. 
In  the  midst  of  the  rollicking,  we  hardly  thought  of  the  fuss,  as 
mission  services  went  on  quietly  as  usual,  except  that  our  young 
librarian  had  his  hand  burned  by  the  explosion  of  a  petardo,  as 
he  held  it! 

We  have  finished  the  last  chapter  of  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  " 
in  the  women's  study,  after  lapses  into  some  specially  needed 
studies  now  and  then.  There  was  a  rapt  look  on  their  faces  as 
we  came  to  the  end,  where  "  the  shining  men  bid  them  call  at 
the  gate."  What  imagery!  Bunyan  and  John  were  akin  in 
their  visions  of  the  Holy  City.  The  dear  women  know  it  is 
imagery  and  that  no  one  has  actually  come  back  across  that 
river  from  the  gate  to  tell  us  just  what  heaven  is,  but  they  know 
that  the  reality  will  be  even  better  than  the  vision,  if  different. 
Such  tired,  old-young,  young-old  faces  some  of  them  are! 
Many  of  the  women  and  girls  work  so  hard  that  the  Monday 
evening  hour  spent  in  the  bright,  little  back  room  of  the  church, 
crowded  as  it  is,  has  come  to  mean  a  good  deal  to  them.  And 
since  last  October,  apart  from  their  weekly  envelopes  and  be- 
sides their  birthday  offerings — for  which  each  church-member 


[218] Child    of    the    Sea 

has  a  pink  envelope — these  seamstresses,  cooks,  washerwomen, 
mothers  of  big  Httle  families,  schoolgirls,  makers  of  drawn-work 
and  embroideries  have  given  nearly  twenty  dollars  to  missions 
through  their  society.  And  one  white-haired  woman  whispered 
to  me  that  her  birthday  had  passed  a  few  days  before,  but  that 
she  was  waiting  to  get  the  fifty-odd  cents,  before  giving  in  her 
pink  birthday  envelope,  as  she  had  only  thirty  cents,  so  far ! 

Sunday,  August  1 ,  1 909. 

My  last  before  sailing  for  the  north,  on  the  3rd.  The  little 
chairs  came  and  were  used  today,  to  the  children's  delight. 

The  catechisms  are  printed  just  at  the  very  last,  little,  green 
booklets  of  truths  for  infant  minds. 


Child    of    the    Sea  [219] 


XXII 

Among  the  tollworn  poor,  my  soul  is  seeking 
For  one  to  bring  the  Maker's  name  to  light, 

Who  sees  a  brother  in  the  evil-doer. 
And  finds  in  Love  the  heart's  blood  of  his  song. 
This,  this  is  he  for  whom  the  world  is  waiting. 
To  sing  the  beatings  of  its  mighty  heart. — Loivell. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
November  13,   1909. 

THIS  last  voyage  between  New  York  and  Borinquen  was 
the  stormiest  of  all.  Yesterday,  we  cast  anchor  at 
Mayagiiez,  on  the  west  coast,  after  a  black,  stormy 
night,  when  neither  star  nor  light  appeared  and  there  was 
danger  of  the  ship's  nmning  amuck  with  our  own  Island!  In 
Mayagiiez,  we  found  that  the  railroad  track  was  under  water 
and  a  part  of  the  towTi  inundated,  so  everybody  had  to  stay 
over  until  today.  We  came  at  last  safely  through  the  danger- 
ous places,  the  wheels  of  the  train  running  under  water  once, 
and  again  I  am  in  the  little  brown  house  on  Cristina  Street, 
with  Miss  Lake  and  Matilde.  Miss  L.  looks  pale  from  a 
malarial  attack,  but  she  will  have  her  turn  of  rest  now. 

Decembers,  1909. 

The  individual  communion  service  has  arrived  in  Porto 
Rico,  and  a  very  good  thing  it  is  where  a  church  is  as  large 
as  ours  in  Ponce.  A  friend  has  sent  this  to  us  through  the 
general  missionary,  Mr.  R.  So  the  other  set,  of  silver  flagon 
and  goblets,  may  be  passed  on  to  one  of  the  smaller  churches. 


[220]  Child    of    the    Sea 


December  12,  1909. 

Tonight,  the  church  decided  to  give  four  dollars  a  month  to 
the  support  of  a  native  "  home  missionary)  "  in  our  Island. 
The  thirty-four  Baptist  churches  all  together  wnll  raise  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  month  for  his  support.  This  is  a  beautiful  ad- 
vance step,  and  Don  R.,  our  pastor,  said  in  the  meeting  to- 
night that  it  should  bring  not  a  monthly  four  dollars'  w^orth 
of  joy  back  to  us  but  millares  de  bendiciones,  thousands  of 
blessings. 

February  10,  1910. 

Strange  and  awesome  it  is  to  think  that  the  lady  who  has 
lived  opposite  our  cottage,  who  always  seemed  a  mere  house- 
hold drudge,  blowsy,  never  dressed  very  neatly,  never  leaving 
her  home,  seen  on  the  front  porch  only  for  taking  in  the  bread 
or  milk,  or  drearily  watching  for  the  tardy  coming  in  of  the 
family,  slaving  for  her  five  sons  and  daughters,  and  old  hus- 
band, lies  today  in  the  mysterious  dignity  of  death!  Blood- 
poisoning  from  a  poor  pin-pricked  finger  brought  the  end  after 
four  days  of  desperate  suffering.  Little,  uninteresting,  frowsy 
lady,  where  are  you  now? 

February  22,  1910. 

I  was  not  actually  sick  but,  having  a  touch  of  anemia,  and 
having  been  crippled  by  more  than  a  touch  of  sciatica  not  very 
long  ago,  I  dropped  all  work  and  went  to  Coamo  Springs  for  a 
week  of  rest.  It  was  pleasant  in  the  freshness  and  quiet  of  the 
rural  hotel,  away  from  city  noise  and  dust,  but  I  was  glad  to 
come  home,  a  day  or  so  ago. 

It  was  while  I  was  there  that  Mr.  Rudd's  letter  came,  pro- 
posing my  leaving  the  Ponce  mission  to  take  charge,  next  fall, 
of  the  mission  school  in  Coamo,  which  Mrs.  Troyer  and  the 
other  teachers  have  finally  left.    At  first,  it  seemed  unthinkable 


Child    of    the    Sea [221] 

.  .  .  yet,  in  spite  of  the  heavy  trial  it  will  be  to  me,  I  have 
agreed  to  do  so.  Personally,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  bottom 
is  dropping  out  of  my  work  in  the  Island,  but  time  will  help  to 
heal  the  heartache  over  leaving  my  own  people.  And  there 
is  need  in  Coamo.  .  . 

March  8.  1910. 

Since  January,  the  American  lady  missionaries  of  the  dif- 
ferent denominations  in  the  city,  have  been  meeting  twice  a 
month.  We  talk  of  our  common  and  individual  work,  that  our 
efforts  may  not  overlap  and  confuse.  Miss  Reed,  of  the 
United  Brethren  mission,  and  I  have  just  attended  one  of  the 
services  which  are  held  by  the  different  pastors,  in  turn,  in  the 
Island  Hospital  for  treatment  of  the  blind — not  an  asylum  for 
holding  and  supporting  them,  though  they  come  for  their  treat- 
ment from  all  over  the  Island.  Thirty-four  poor,  bowed, 
bandaged  patients  sat  in  chairs  arranged  in  the  great  corri- 
dor of  the  building.  El  Mayaguez,  one  of  our  own  blind 
members  from  Yauco,  among  them.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  help 
teach  them  to  sing  "  Beautiful  Words  of  Life  "  and  "  Jesus  is 
the  Light  of  the  World."  We  have  secured  permission  from 
the  authorities  in  San  Juan  to  have  a  weekly  class  for  the 
blind  children,  and  the  ladies  of  the  various  missions  are  to 
take  this  class,  turn  about.  Of  course,  this  permission  must 
be  extended  to  the  Roman  Catholics  as  well,  if  they  want  it, 
as  this  is  a  State  institution.  We  are  to  have  six  little  blind 
boys  and  girls — or  with  eyes  diseased — as  our  first  charge. 

Sunday.  May  8,  1910. 

Mrs.  Rudd's  youngest  boy  who  has  been  ill  for  weeks  with 
typhoid  fever,  at  our  house  (because  of  the  need  of  having  him 
nearer  the  doctor  than  in  his  own  home  in  the  hills  of  Corral 


[222] Child    of    the    Sea 

Viejo) ,  has  been  a  perfect  little  patient.  He  is  enough  better 
to  stand  a  tottering  second  on  his  feet,  today.  Doctor  Ruth 
says  he  may  go  home  this  week,  and  the  poor  httle  fellow  can 
hardly  wait  for  the  day  and  the  automobile  to  arrive. 

When  beggars  die  there  are  no  comets  seen; 

The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the  death  of  princes. 

So  said  Shakespeare  in  Julius  Caesar,  and  lo!  on  May  6, 
while  the  Halley  comet  was  blazing  its  path  nearer  and 
nearer  to  us.  King  Edward  VII  died! 

June  17,  1910. 

It  has  been  hard  to  tell  some  of  our  people  of  leaving  them 
— not  for  a  few  weeks  this  time  as  often  heretofore,  but  for 
another  work.  The  sorrow  of  some  is  natural  perhaps,  as  we 
have  spent  years  together.  To  all  of  them  I  am  saying  that 
"  the  Work  "  is  not  of  the  workers  but  of  God,  and  will  abide, 
no  m.atter  who  passes  out  of  it,  anywhere.  This  I  know  to  be 
absolutely  true,  yet  it  does  not,  somehow,  heal  all  the  heart- 
ache for  me. 

July  19,  1910. 

A  day  of  gorgeous  coloring — ^blue  of  sky,  snowy  white- 
ness of  cloud,  blackness  of  shade,  golden  blaze  of  sun,  red  of 
flamboydn  trees,  tender  green  of  new  leaves — wind,  dust! 

A  beggar  at  my  door  says,  on  being  dismissed,  "  Estd  hien, 
caballera.  All  right,  lady!  "  Note:  Systematic  refusals  to 
give  to  professional  beggars  may,  at  last,  create  in  one's  own 
soul  a  need  to  give. 

Excessive  heat  continues.  Sleepiness  overpowers  me,  and 
even  crossing  the  room  means  too  much  of  an  effort — but  I 
cross  it! 


Child    of    the    Sea [223] 

August  6,  1910. 

Mercury  at  95°  in  our  dining-room.  Don  Pedro  died 
this  morning.  I  went  to  his  mother  and  sisters  this  p.  m.,  in 
their  pleasant  home,  and  found  him  lying  painless  now,  after 
a  year's  illness,  on  a  great  high  bed,  in  a  room  literally  filled 
with  loveliest  of  real  flowers,  roses,  lilies,  jessamines,  and  with 
wreaths  of  artificial  ones  for  the  family  vault.  The  grief  of 
the  family  is  profound  and  the  whole  city  loved  "  Perico,"  a 
blameless,  public-spirited  gentleman.  As  a  close  neighbor  for 
five  years  I  saw  in  him  the  ideal  Porto  Rican  son  and  brother. 
The  funeral  procession  this  afternoon  (Oh,  the  haste  of  a  tropic 
land!)  did  not  turn  in  at  the  big  yellow  church  in  the  plaza, 
but  kept  straight  on  by,  to  the  campo  santo,  "  without  benefit 
of  clergy,"  and  without  the  tolling  of  bells. 

It  is  night,  hot,  dark,  breathless. 

St.  Thomas  Island,  D.  W.  I., 
September  30.  1910. 

It  has  always  rested  me  more,  in  times  of  stress,  to  get 
quite  off  our  Island  than  to  go  to  the  hills,  so  I  came  to  this 
beautiful  Danish  island,  a  few  days  ago.  It  is  about  fifty 
miles  from  Porto  Rico,  and  a  night  of  steaming  eastward  at 
half-speed  in  the  rusty  little  S.  S.  Abd-el-Kader  brought  me 
here.  Words  cannot  express  the  quiet  and  peace  of  the  old, 
yellow  brick  house  on  the  hill,  where  Madame  Simonsen  and 
her  three  daughters  have  cared  for  me  more  as  a  guest  of 
honor,  than  as  a  boarder  in  their  pension. 

The  wear  and  tear  of  preparations  for  leaving  Ponce  brought 
on  such  crashing  pain  a  week  ago  in  the  nerves  of  my  head 
that  Doctor  Vogel  gave  me  a  letter  to  his  Danish  brother 
physician  in  St.  Thomas  and  himself  engaged  my  passage  and 
packed  me  off,  without  ceremony.     Now  relaxation  and  ease 


[224] Child    of    the    Sea 

have  come,  and  I  can  enjoy  the  perfection  of  the  semi-tropic 
loveliness  of  this  Httle  w^onder-spot  in  the  sea. 

Today  is  my  birthday.  The  daughters  of  Mme.  S.  have 
sent  up  roses  on  my  breakfast-tray,  a  card  of  quaint  good 
wishes,  and  a  piece  of  the  beautiful  Danish  needle-work  I  ad- 
mire so  much,  as  birthday  gifts.  This  afternoon  dear  little 
Mme.  S.  and  Miss  Kristine  are  going  for  a  long  drive  with 
me  in  one  of  the  quaint,  hooded  carriages  that  fit  in  so  well 
with  the  foreign  aspect  of  this  little  city  of  Charlotte  Amalia, 
capital  of  the  Danish  Islands. 

Ponce,  P.  R., 
October  9,  1910. 

My  bits  of  furniture  packed  into  two  ox-carts  have  at  last 
gone  off  to  the  empty  mission  house  in  Coamo,  and  our  mis- 
sion sexton  will  drive  me  the  twenty  miles,  tomorrow,  in  my 
own  phaeton  with  a  hired  horse.  The  week  has  been  full  of 
last  things  to  be  done  before  leaving  Ponce.  Miss  Lake  will 
remain  here,  of  course,  and  our  Woman's  Board  of  Chicago, 
111.,  has  appointed  Miss  Laura  K.  Dresser  ^  to  come  to  live  and 
work  with  her.  Miss  Alice  Collyer  will  assist  me  as  teacher 
in  the  school  at  Coamo.  We  have  now  in  the  Island  eight 
missionaries  of  the  two  recently  amalgamated  Home  Boards 
— that  of  New  England  at  Boston,  and  that  of  the  West  at 
Chicago. 

Rev.  Mr.  Detweiler,  one  of  the  late-comers  to  our  work, 
will  be  stationed  in  Ponce;  another  recent  arrival,  Mr.  Riggs, 
in  the  Barros  district;  while  the  general  missionary.  Doctor 
Rudd,  moves  to  the  north  side  of  the  Island,  as  Mr.  Cober  has 
had  to  retire  with  impaired  health.  Don  Ramon  Veliz  Lopez, 
pastor  for  five  years  of  our  large  church  in  Ponce,  must  go  to 
Yauco.    May  all  these  changes  be  for  Thine  own  glory! 

»Died  in  Ponce,  July  24,  1919. 


Child    of    the    Sea [225] 

O  thou  nj/io  changest  not 
Abide  TDilh  me! 

The  "  sisters  "  came  for  my  last  meeting  with  them  in  the 
church  this  afternoon,  and  this  was  my  real  farewell  to  Ponce. 
All  went  quietly,  as  I  gave  them  no  example  of  weeping  or 
lamenting,  after  a  brief  talk  and  prayers.  I  shall  never  forget 
their  wistful,  loving  faces  and  the  tears  quietly  wiped  away,  as 
we  embraced  and  separated.  I  could  not  have  borne  a  scene; 
and  do  I  not  know  the  heart  of  my  people? 


POSTSCRIPT— 1920 


POSTSCRIPT— 1920 


On  November  17,  1493,  on  his  second  voyage  of  dis- 
covery, Christopher  Columbus  sighted  the  Island  of  Porto 
Rico.  On  the  19th  he  landed  on  the  west  coast  for  fresh 
water.  Taking  possession  of  the  Island  in  the  name  of  the 
Spanish  sovereigns,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  he  named  it  San 
Juan  Bautista,  St.  John  the  Baptist.  The  hymn  given  at  the 
beginning  of  this  book  tells  of  its  Indian  name,  Borinquen. 

The  Borinquerios  were  a  peaceable,  lazy,  and  happy  people 
when  not  molested  by  the  occasional  onsets  from  the  sea  of 
the  fierce  Caribs  who  ravaged  the  island  coasts  of  the  Carib- 
bean, passmg  from  one  island  to  another  in  their  strong  canoes 
of  war. 

For  a  few  years  after  its  discovery  Borinquen  remained  un- 
explored, and  the  Indians  unafraid  of  the  white  men  who  had 
visited  them.  It  is  said  that  some  cattle  were  introduced  by 
one  of  the  "  governors  "  appointed  by  Spain,  early  in  the  next 
century,  but  it  was  Ponce  De  Leon  who  opened  the  way  to 
colonizing  the  Island.  This  **  ambitious  Captain  "  had  ac- 
companied Columbus  on  his  second  voyage,  and  had  finally 
remained  in  Santo  Domingo.  He  heard  rumors  of  gold  to  be 
found  in  the  rivers  of  Borinquen,  and  sailed  thither  from  Santo 
Domingo,  in  1508.  On  his  return  with  good  reports,  the 
governor  of  Santo  Domingo  charged  Ponce  de  Leon  with  the 
task  of  subduing  the  Borinquerios  by  force  of  arms. 

"  This  bold,  but  cruel  and  unprincipled  leader  quickly 
brought  the  simple,  unwarlike  Indians  under  his  sway.  A  year 
or  two  later,  he  founded  near  the  present  site  of  San  Juan  a 

[229] 


[230] Child    of    the    Sea 

town  which  he  named  Caparra.  The  town  was  afterward 
called  Puerto  Rico  (Rich  Port).  In  1521,  by  command  of 
the  King  of  Spain,  the  capital  was  transferred  to  its  present 
location."  ^  Later  still,  the  name  Puerto  Rico  was  transferred 
to  the  Island,  the  colony  only  being  called  San  Juan.  The 
Indian  name  of  course  disappeared.  Until  the  year  1893 
Porto  Rico  remained  a  dependency  of  Spain. 

The  Hymn  of  Borinquen,  as  sung  today  in  Spanish  in  the 
public  schools  of  the  Island,  calls  it  Child  of  the  sea  and  the 
sun. 

"  Child  of  the  sea,"  it  forms  a  link  in  the  lovely  island  chain 
of  the  Greater  and  Lesser  Antilles,  which,  beginning  with  Cuba 
at  the  entrance  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  extends  thence  eastward 
and  south,  far  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  San  Juan,  the  capital 
of  Porto  Rico,  lies  a  thousand  miles  to  the  east  of  Habana, 
Cuba,  and  almost  fourteen  hundred  miles  southeastward  from 
New  York  City.  On  the  north,  the  Island's  rocky  coast  is 
beaten  by  the  rough  Atlantic  surges.  On  the  south,  its  shores 
slope  more  gently  to  the  less  unquiet  waters  of  the  Caribbean 
Sea. 

"  Child  of  the  sun,"  Borinquen  basks  in  semi-tropical  heat 
which  is  tempered  by  the  daily  trade-winds  during  the  year- 
around  summertime.  As  the  sun  drops  into  the  Caribbean  Sea 
at  its  setting,  the  sea-wind  falls  and  the  brief  twilight  ends  in 
the  coolness  of  the  dewy  night.  Even  the  rainy  season  of 
months  is  no  rival  of  the  sunshine,  for  blessed  rain  and  brilliant 
sun  together  unite  to  make  of  Porto  Rico  the  picture-paradise  it 
is  for  its  lovers. 

The  Island  lies  Just  within  the  tropics,  yet  so  far  from  the 
equator  that  its  climate  and  natural  productions  partake  rather 
of  a  temperate-tropical  than  of  the  torrid  zone.  The  rainy 
season,  lasting  in  general  from  May  to  October  inclusive,  re- 

"*  Porto  Rico:  the  land  of  the  Rich  Port,"  by  Joseph  B.  Seabury. 


Postscript [231] 

news  by  frequent  showers  the  verdure  of  the  hills  and  pastures 
grown  sere  and  brown  during  the  rainless  months;  it  quickens 
the  foliage  of  the  evergreen  trees  of  fruit  and  shade  and  the 
blossoming  of  gardens,  and  cleanses  the  dust-laden  air.  While 
the  humidity  is  great,  86°  may  be  given  as  the  average  tempera- 
ture of  these  months,  on  the  coastlands.  Among  the  hills,  the 
temperature  is  lower,  in  both  the  dry  and  wet  seasons,  than  on 
the  coast. 

Those  Indians  who  were  unable  to  escape  from  the  oppres- 
sion of  the  Spanish  rulers  by  flight  to  other  islands,  were  in  the 
end  thoroughly  exterminated.  It  became  necessary  therefore 
to  import  African  slaves  for  the  hard  labor  of  the  early  colo- 
nies. Slavery  was  finally  abolished  in  Porto  Rico  by  the 
Cortes  of  Spain  in  1873.  There  is  a  large  admixture  of  negro 
blood  throughout  the  Island,  particularly  in  the  towns  of  the 
coastlands.  Besides  the  varying  shades  of  complexion,  denot- 
ing the  more  or  less  vigorous  strain  of  color  in  the  population  of 
mixed  race,  there  is  the  pure  white  of  Europe  and  the  piurc 
black  of  Africa,  Of  Indian  blood  there  seem  to  be  as  few 
remains  as  there  are  of  Borinquen  nomenclature  and  design. 

The  Island  contains  about  3,500  square  miles,  and  Governor 
Yager's  last  annual  report  (1919)  gives  the  population  as 
1 ,263,474.  While  multitudes  throng  the  cities  and  towns,  the 
majority  of  the  people  live  in  the  country  districts,  tucked  away 
in  incredible  numbers  in  their  thatched  huts  among  the  plan- 
tains up  and  dovsTi  the  mountain  slopes,  or  In  scattered  settle- 
ments on  the  coffee  estates  of  the  hills,  and  among  the  cane- 
plantations  of  the  valleys. 

It  is  as  natural  that  the  religion  of  Porto  Rico — since  the  In- 
dian extermination — should  be  the  Roman  Catholicism  of  the 
colonizing  mother  country  as  that  the  language  should  be  Span- 
ish. But  Porto  Rico  seems  to  have  been  looked  upon  by  Spain 
and  its  Church,  all  through  the  years,  less  as  mission  field  than 
Q 


[232] Child    of    the    Sea 

as  a  "  rich  port  "  for  exploitation.  The  religion  of  the  Island- 
ers has  never  reached  the  point  of  fanatical  practice  attained 
in  those  other  Spanish-American  lands  where  a  half-pagan 
Indian  race  has  remained  to  be  reckoned  with.  There  are  old 
churches  in  all  the  towns,  new  ones  in  some,  and  their  functions 
are  attended  with  zeal,  on  Sundays  and  other  feast-days  by 
most  of  the  "  better  class  "  of  citizens,  and  in  the  country  dis- 
tricts by  peasants  who  take  the  trail  on  these  days  to  market  as 
well  as  to  the  church.  Before  the  American  occupation,  the 
poor  and  isolated  were  apparently  held  in  little  esteem  by  the 
Spanish  priests,  except  that  the  Church  charged  systematically 
for  the  baptism  of  infants,  for  the  performance  of  the  marriage 
ceremony,  for  burial,  and  for  masses  for  the  souls  of  the  dead. 
Besides  the  emoluments  accruing  from  these  every-day  occur- 
rences, the  import  duties  of  the  Island  were  turned  into  the  treas- 
ury of  the  Church  for  priests'  salaries  and  perquisites. 

Of  official  public-school  buildings  there  were  none  under  the 
Spanish  regime.  The  small  rented  schoolhouse  or  room  was 
generally  shared  with  the  teacher's  family.  The  alcalde,  or 
mayor,  and  the  parish  priest  were  the  supervising  members  of 
the  school  boards  oftenest  seen  in  inspection.  Schools  were 
"  graded  "  autocratically  by  the  teachers  themselves,  lessons 
were  recited  by  rote,  text-books  were  inadequate,  and  the  whole 
system  of  education  was  antiquated  and  ineffective.  Many  of 
the  teachers,  however,  were  faithful  so  far  as  their  training 
carried  them,  and  some  of  these  were  still  employed,  after  a 
better  system  was  introduced.  The  rural  districts  were  prac- 
tically uncared  for.  Those  who  were  ambitious  for  the  higher 
education  of  their  sons,  and  were  able  to  satisfy  these  ambitions, 
sent  the  young  men  to  Madrid  or  to  other  educational  centers  of 
Spain,  or  to  Paris,  for  further  instruction. 

In  a  word,  the  beautiful  Island  of  fertile  soil  and  delightful 
climate,  dominated  by  Spain  across  the  ocean  for  four  hun- 


Postscript  [233] 

dred  years,  had  had  no  opportunity  for  self-development,  until 
the  day  when  the  ending  of  Spanish  rule  opened  the  door  to  its 
awakening. 

After  the  victory  of  the  forces  of  the  United  States  at  San- 
tiago de  Cuba,  in  the  war  of  1 898,  General  Nelson  A.  Miles, 
U.  S.  A.,  sailed  for  the  coast  of  Porto  Rico,  with  about  four 
thousand  troops,  and  several  battle-ships,  part  of  the  fleet  from 
Cuban  waters.  On  July  25,  1898,  "he  appeared  suddenly 
before  Guanica  on  the  southern  side  of  the  Island.  After  a 
few  shots  from  the  gunboat  Gloucester  the  town  succumbed. 
The  troops  landed  the  next  day  and  a  light  passage  at  arms 
followed  [a  few  Spanish  guerrillas  resisting  the  landing] .  The 
soldiers  then  marched  on  to  Yauco,  and  on  the  twenty-eighth  of 
the  month  they  reached  Ponce,  which  surrendered  without  the 
use  of  either  powder  or  shot. 

"  The  troops  marching  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  re- 
ceived with  hurrahs.  The  people  brought  out  from  their  houses 
flowers,  fruits,  and  cool  drinks,  shouting  enthusiastically  as  they 
gave  these  to  the  soldiers:  '  Vivan  los  americanos!  '  Everybody 
wanted  an  American  flag,  and  the  demand  was  so  great  that 
General  Miles  sent  to  Washington  for  a  fresh  supply. 

"  It  was  expected  that  strong  resistance  to  the  American 
forces  would  be  made  at  Aibonito  [midway  of  the  Island  on 
the  Military  Highway]  because  of  the  high  and  commanding 
position  of  the  town.  Before  the  town  was  reached,  however, 
the  war  had  come  to  an  end.  The  protocol  [with  Spain] 
was  signed  at  Washington,  August  12,  and  the  next  day  peace 
was  proclaimed  in  Porto  Rico.  .  .  It  was  .  .  agreed  that  the 
Spanish  authorities  should  at  once  leave  [the  Island]."  ^ 

In  this  brief  account,  scarcely  a  glance  may  be  given  at  the 
progress  of  the  Island  in  the  twenty  years  which  have  elapsed 
since  Spain  withdrew  with  her  civil  authorities  and  her  army. 
*"  Porto  Rico:  the  Land  of  the  Rich  Port,"  by  Joseph  B.  Scabury. 


[234] Child    of    the    Sea 

A  military  government  was  quickly  formed  with  Major 
General  Brooke  as  first  executive.  This  was  superseded  early 
in  1900  by  civil  government,  the  Hon.  Charles  A.  Allen 
being  the  first  civil  governor.  (The  President  of  the  United 
States  appoints  the  governor  of  the  Island  every  four  years. 
He  also  appoints  an  Executive  Council  of  eleven  men,  five  of 
whom  must  be  Porto  Ricans.  A  House  of  Delegates  consists 
of  thirty-five  persons,  five  chosen  from  each  of  the  seven  dis- 
tricts into  which  the  Island  is  divided.) 

To  give  work  to  an  impoverished  people — a  devastating  hur- 
ricane having  added  its  distressing  consequences  to  the  early 
problems  attending  reconstruction;  to  open  up  the  Island  to 
impressions  from  the  great  country  in  the  north  bent  upon  its 
material  uplifting;  to  prepare  for  the  education  of  the  youth  of 
the  Island  through  public  schools — these  became  the  immediate 
tasks  of  the  new  government.  The  Americanization  of  Porto 
Rico  Is  another  story  from  that  to  which  this  book  has  been 
dedicated,  but  a  few  statistics  as  to  general  education  Vkdll  not 
be  out  of  place  here. 

In  1898  the  population  was  esrimaled  at —  953,243 

"    1919  the  population  was  estimated  at 1,263,473 

"    1898  number  of  children  attending  school 21,873 

"    1919  number  of  children  attending  school 160,794 

1898  number  of  teachers 525 

"    1919  number  of  teachers .„  2,984 

1898  number  of  Government-owned  school  build- 

1919  number  of  Government-owned  school  build- 

1898  number  of  rented  school  buildings . 525 

1919  number  of  rented  school  buildings 1,195 

Old  text-books  were  removed.  English  was  introduced  into 
the  schools  as  soon  as  possible,  at  first  by  the  employment  of 


Postscript  [235] 

teachers  from  the  U.  S.  Native  teachers  were  prepared  by 
degrees  for  classroom  work  and  later  for  the  principalship  of 
schools,  in  many  cases.  Spanish  was  continued,  however,  in 
grade  work  and  in  normal  training.  "  The  authorities  as  well 
as  the  public  realized  that  the  introduction  of  the  English  lan- 
guage was  of  vital  importance.  There  has  been  at  no  time  a 
tendency  to  suppress  Spanish.  There  is  no  reason  why  this 
should  be  done.  Because  of  the  geographical  location  of  Porto 
Rico,  the  ancestry  and  tradition  of  the  people,  and  from  a  com- 
mercial standpoint,  there  is  every  reason  for  continuing  the 
study  of  Spanish.  From  the  earliest  days,  the  purpose  of  the 
Department  [of  Education]  has  been  to  establish  a  bilingual 
system  of  education,  which  would  ensure  the  conservation  of 
Spemish  and  promote  the  acquisition  of  English.  Both  of  these 
languages  should  be  mastered  sufficiently  for  practical  use."  ^ 

More  than  once  war  has  opened  the  door  for  the  word  of 
God.  Freedom  of  worship  had  not  been  a  vital  question  in 
Porto  Rico  where  Roman  Catholicism  was  the  established 
faith,  but  Spain  had  not  allowed  Protestant  propaganda  in 
Spanish.  There  was  a  small  church  in  Ponce,  near  the  south- 
em  coast,  where  services  were  permitted  in  English,  principally 
for  the  negroes  from  the  islands  of  the  British  West  Indies. 
"  Religious  liberty  entered  with  our  flag,  and  among  the  eager 
men  and  women  of  the  United  States  ready  to  undertake  mis- 
sion work  there.  Baptists  were  the  first  on  the  field.  They  en- 
tered in  February,  1899,  six  months  after  the  signing  of  the 
peace  protocol  with  Spain,  and  first  preached  the  gospel  to  the 
native  Porto  Ricans  in  Spanish,  baptized  the  first  converts,  and 
organized  the  first  church." 

During  that  first  year  six  Baptist  missionaries  arrived  In  the 
Island,  all  with  a  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  language. 

'From  the  annual  report  of  the  Coremitsioner  of  Education  of  Porto 
Rico,  for  1919. 


'[236] Child    of    the    Sea 

Since  then,  there  have  been  sent  thirteen  men,  with  their 
wives,  under  the  auspices  of  the  American  Baptist  Home  Mis- 
sion Board,  of  New  York,  N.  Y.,  and  twenty-three  single 
women  working  with  these  in  connection  with  the  Woman's 
Boards  of  Home  Missions  in  Boston,  Mass.,  and  Chicago,  111. 
(amalgamated  in  1909).  Of  these  Baptist  missionaries  five 
have  died:  Miss  Henrietta  Stassen,  of  Coamo;  Miss  Alice 
Shorey,  of  Ponce;  Miss  Ruth  Chamberlain,  of  Ponce;  Miss 
Laura  K.  Dresser,  of  Ponce;  Rev.  L.  E.  Troyer,  of  Coamo. 
Of  these,  all  but  Miss  Dresser  had  returned  to  the  United 
States  before  their  death. 

There  are  at  present  in  Porto  Rico  of  our  own  American 
workers  (December  31,  1919),  nine  single  v/omen  and  five 
married  men. 

Our  churches  number  — _.„ _ 46 

Church-members    _..  2,212 

Average  attendance  at  Bible  schools  2,915 

Number  of  native  Vi^orkers  (7  ordained)  _  23 

Total  offerings   for   1919  $10,487.35 

Workers  of  other  denominations  quickly  followed  the  pio- 
neers. "  A  comity  agreement  was  entered  into  by  all  but  the 
Episcopalians,  which  provided  for  distribution  of  territory 
and  of  Christian  forces  over  the  whole  Island.  Towns  of 
5,000  and  over  were  considered  open  to  all  comers.  Smaller 
towns  with  adjacent  territory  were  entrusted  to  the  exclusive 
care  of  the  denomination  entering  first.  No  sacrifice  of  princi- 
ple or  conviction  was  proposed.  Members  of  one  denomination 
moving  into  the  territory  of  another  were  free  to  propagate  their 
particular  church  life,  but  this  was  done  voluntarily  and  with- 
out financial  assistance  from  their  Mission  Board.  By  this 
provision,  it  was  believed  that  the  practise  of  self-support  would 
be  stimulated.    The  plan  has  been  justified  by  results.    Within 


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Postscript  [237] 

a  short  time  practically  the  whole  of  the  Island  was  enjoying 
some  measure  of  evangelical  ministration." 

After  twenty  years,  we  find  from  the  little  pamphlet  giving 
the  annual  report  for  1919  of  the  churches  belonging  to  the 
Union  Evangelica  de  Puerto  Rico  the  following: 

Number  of  churches  „ 195 

Members  in  full  communion  _ _ 1 1 ,072 

Number  of  Bible  schools  _ 276 

Members  of  Bible  schools 17.114 

Surely  no  apology  is  needed  for  Protestant  work  in  this 
Island.  The  first  years,  inadequately  desciibed  in  the  pages  of 
this  volume,  were  only  the  beginning  of  what  is  to  be.  If  the 
*'  human  documents  "  thus  spread  before  the  reader  do  not 
bear  testimony  to  the  urgent  need  of  the  truth  which  makes  men 
and  women  free  indeed,  and  to  the  blessings  attending  this 
freedom,  the  book  will  have  been  written  and  read  in  vain. 

J.  P.  D. 


02 


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